


Polishing Beskar

by arch_tect



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, I don't know what I'm doing I wanted to give Mando a boyfriend and I fell in love with this universe, M/M, Mando is Touch Starved, also a beskar kink? I guess??, and there's a hand kink in here somewhere, baby yoda is cute and cuddly, definitely a mandalorian kink I don't know I'll shut up now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22032628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arch_tect/pseuds/arch_tect
Summary: An unsuspecting local gets caught up in the Mandalorian's chaos on Nevarro and Din ends up rescuing two helpless beings from the Imperials instead of just one.It's honestly not the brightest idea he's ever had.Alternatively Titled:How not to rescue pointy-eared green babies.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Character, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 309
Kudos: 543





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed The Mandalorian so tremendously that I felt like I had to spew out some words as an outlet for the whirlwind of emotions this show gave me. I love Mando as a character, and I would absolutely DIE for Baby Yoda. So, I decided to write some fluff, and a bit of a romance for our cute, Beskar-clad, single dad.
> 
> Hopefully someone enjoys reading this half as much as I've enjoyed writing it and planning it. Not beta'd so if you see any mistakes, please don't hesitate to point them out for me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan makes some questionable decisions and finds himself in questionable circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The majority of this story is told through Din's POV. This chapter is one of the few exceptions.

**Chapter 1 - Beskar.**

_Beskar (noun): also known as Mandalorian iron. An alloy used in Mandalorian armour, notable for its high tolerance to extreme forms of damage._

~ ~ ~ ~

Nathan felt stifled in the encroaching warmth of the room but the two Stormtroopers silently watching him seemed rather unaffected by the temperature, hardly moving or even twitching. One of them did speak into a _comlink_ on occasion, but only whenever Nathan thought he was finally done with his work. It was like a well-rehearsed choreography, actually. As soon as he put down all his tools and took a moment to wipe the sweat from his forehead, the modulated voice would mutter a quiet, “another set”, before a new pair of Beskar bars were brought into the room and dropped in front of him. Each time, the ones he'd finished polishing were whisked away in the process and then he’d be left alone again with his two stoic watchers, stewing in the room's pervasive, humid heat.

It was boring, monotonous work and it was a surprisingly time-consuming task to restore each metal unit to a pristine condition. He was tired, hungry and his fingers ached. They hadn’t given him more than two bars at a time, probably trying to skew his perception of how much Beskar he'd been handed over the course of the day, but he must have polished over 20 pieces by then. The room was small, cramped and looked suspiciously like a repurposed interrogation cell. It had no windows, just a low-hanging light, obnoxiously bright, that flickered intermittently. The air was stale, damp, and the chemicals he was using burnt uncomfortably at the back of his throat with no exhaust in sight to air out the small area.

At first, the task was fascinating, just the way the precious metal came alive beneath his fingers with some care, lustrous like nothing he'd ever seen before. But by now, he’d grown well and truly tired of it. Not to mention, the Imperial brand on every unit was disconcerting. He might never have stepped foot outside Nevarro in his whole life but he knew tales of the Mandalorians and their impenetrable Mandalorian iron. He remembered being fascinated, as a child, by the illustrations of their impressive armour in his story books. He had run around the village with a bucket on his head more times than he could count, pretending to be one of the warriors in the drawings. His father had allowed him to perforate the cheap rusted metal to carve out a T-shaped visor. Even though it did nothing to hide his face and the edges were sharp and cut him on multiple occasions, it made him feel like a warrior all the same. Like someone with a higher purpose and valour. It was foolish and naïve, the way children often are.

After all, there wasn’t any valour to be found when the Empire took hold of their planet. He cowered with the rest of the children and those unable to fight in the underground network of sewage tunnels, while his home was destroyed above. His father never returned from the fight and when they discovered the sewers, troopers filing in from every direction, he was separated from his mother and she never returned either. Most people didn’t come back once they were taken away, but he managed to stay through the years.

He was useful, even as a child, eventually as an armourer. If you just did what you were told and never questioned anything, learnt to adapt, to be resourceful, then you were fine. Mostly. After the _Wars_ , he stayed all the same. The bounty hunters’ guild was good business for an armourer and a handyman. Many guild members wore armour of some kind, but he also had a talent for fixing weapons or hunting contraptions, _comlinks_ , and technological knick-knacks. He was still useful, by choice.

Well, except for his current predicament, of course. He was not here by 'choice' (which wasn’t surprising given the Imperial involvement). He’d been grabbed on his way to his shop early in the morning and then forced to work on restoring the dull, faded metal. Why? He didn’t know. It wasn’t something that required particularly skilled hands to do, but he figured Stormtroopers continued to be the mindless drones they’ve always been, unable to do so much as polish some metal with care. Regardless, whatever the reason, it was best not to ask any questions and he wasn’t expecting any payment either.

A bead of sweat trickled from his temple then, splashing onto the bar in his hand, and before he could even think to wipe his forehead, much less the precious alloy, one of the troopers struck him across the face with the butt of his rifle.

“Don’t let that happen again.” The white helmet was as expressionless as ever, but even through the modulator he could discern anger in the metallic voice. “They need to be pristine. And pick up the pace, this is the last set and you’re cutting it close.”

Cutting it close for what? Again, he didn't know. He was practically done, in any case. The last bar had already been in good condition, and it didn't even need any sanding, so he finished quickly, taking a moment to admire his final work. The rare metal was impressive, whether dulled or not, and with some polishing it was nothing short of stunning. His fascination with the Mandalorians had long faded, but holding the last bar in his hands saddened him. He was unlikely to ever handle Beskar again, and he still knew better than to ask what it was for.

He'd actually seen a Mandalorian a few times now, one of the bounty hunters that came and went without much fanfare. Unlike other guild members, the Mando had never come to his shop, so Nathan had never heard him speak or knew a single thing about him. He’d only seen him from a distance at the cantina, collecting prize money and leaving with a handful of pucks shortly after.

Since his helmet was made of Beskar, it always drew attention at the crowded bar, and Nathan had caught himself staring more times than he cared to admit. With a small measure of bitterness, he wondered what the bounty hunter would think if he saw the treasure trove of this precious iron that these Imperials were in possession of. As a Mandalorian, he probably wouldn't be overly impressed.

The trooper who had struck him stepped forward then, interrupting his appraisal and grabbing the Beskar on the table. Nathan handed over the bar in his hands without hesitation but undeniably with regret. Somehow, when both drones left the room after, locking the door behind them, the confined space felt even more stifling. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t scrub the leftover sticky polishing oil off his hands.

~ ~ ~ ~

What seemed like hours later, two bucket heads came into the room and roughly dragged him out. He was taken through a series of twists and turns, different from the way he was led in, and hoped that they were escorting him out. After all, what reason would they have to kill him? And what other use would they have for him? Another safe full of Beskar? That seemed unlikely.

As they took yet another turn, he heard a mournful whimper from one of the rooms at the end of the corridor. It had to have come from a child, which seemed woefully at odds with his surroundings. In fact, the sound was so unexpected that he craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of its source through the open doorway. He was roughly shoved forward, but not before he watched a curious green creature, 90% pointy ears, being lifted out of a floating bassinet. It gave one more cry before it faded from his line of sight as they rounded another corner, arriving at an open area.

This room was sparsely decorated, if you could call it 'decoration'. Sterile, empty, and grey. It felt cold, especially after the oppressive warmth of the cell he’d been kept in. He was approached by an older man, decked in regal Imperial robes, and to his surprise handed a bar of Beskar.

“For your work,” the man said. “And for your discretion. It’s best that this place, and any events that have transpired during your time here be— shall we say, _forgotten_.”

His _Basic_ was accented but clear enough, so Nathan simply nodded before one of his hands was freed from the Stormtrooper’s grasp to pocket the precious iron he was being offered. He didn't speak, somehow he felt that he couldn’t. That there weren’t any appropriate words to say, or even any words worth speaking out loud to this man. There was a certain 'cognitive dissonance' warring within him, same as there always seemed to be, when it came to the Empire, to the nameless forces that took everything away from him. He was too young to fully understand the loss of his parents and his freedom, but not too young to forget. All the same, he had endured, and he’d survived, and for a time the Empire was all he’d known. There was anger within him, subdued but always simmering, and resentment— but nothing to do about it. Especially not here, not now.

The man retreated towards the same hallway he’d just been dragged in from, dismissing Nathan with barely a hand flicker. He was shoved through a door at the end of another corridor shortly after, and unceremoniously dumped outside. There was a light drizzle that evening, and he trudged to his home in a daze, not entirely sure that he wouldn’t wake in his cot the next morning to find that all of it was a dream.

~ ~ ~ ~

It wasn’t a dream.

Beskar weighed heavy in his pocket. He'd been too ashamed to pull it out all morning, but he wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t committed any crimes, he hadn’t stolen, and he hadn't done anything untoward or even shady— right? He polished some Beskar for a clandestine group of Imperial remnants, and they even paid him for it. There wasn’t any need for anyone to know what he’d done for them. And there wasn’t anything intrinsically evil or wrong about such a mundane exchange of payment for a service.

_… Right?_

For some reason his thoughts always strayed towards the child. Or whatever that creature had been, cooing and whimpering like a baby, looking so out of sorts and entirely out of place in that desolate and cold bunker. It had such big ears, too. Comically large in fact, but undeniably endearing. Had it been in distress? Was it being properly cared for? Nathan wasn’t predisposed to superstition, but there was just something that didn’t sit right with him. Call it a _sixth sense_.

He hadn't been able to rest that night, truth be told, and he was distantly aware that all his shallow dreams had centred on big eyes and bigger ears, accompanied by echoes of the child's cries. Even more bizarrely, when he walked to work with a hand in his pocket and fingers loosely wrapped around the iron bar… he felt watched. It seemed as if everyone he crossed on the street knew that he'd participated in something sordid. It just didn't feel right.

And so, when he closed his shop for the day, fully intending to walk towards the town centre for a _happy hour_ drink at the cantina, he’d instead carried himself halfway to the bunker before he realised it— and before he could think better of it.

It was downright moronic. He had no plan, no weapons (or any clue how to wield one), no idea how to even enter the building. He didn't know what he hoped to gain from it but— he was there now, so he might as well snoop around. Sunlight was fading fast, and he could at least stick to the shadows, try to find entrances, windows, anything. Maybe if he could just catch a glimpse of the creature, and see it well cared for, it would ease his mind.

On the outskirts of the bunker, Nathan peeked around a dimly lit corner and saw him— well, actually, he was hard to miss. There stood the Mandalorian, covered in polished Beskar from head to toe. He couldn’t be certain that it was the same Mandalorian, the bounty hunter, but statistically speaking… it probably was. He seemed to have the same proportions at least, the same height, the same rifle, the same helmet, the same billowy cloak torn in familiar places— and yes, perhaps he'd observed everything about the Mandalorian in great detail, but they were such a rarity, so who could blame him?

The armour was definitely new though, and entirely Beskar. And now he was there, precisely where Nathan had been just the day before, polishing a staggering amount of the same precious iron. Coincidence? Correlation? Causation? He didn't get time to ponder because the Mandalorian planted an explosive charge on the wall and when it crumbled from the detonation, he rushed in, far more graceful than he had any right to be considering the likely weight of his gear.

Immediately, Nathan could hear an alarm going off, the sounds of a firefight, but all he could think of was the child. He had to get the baby before it was caught in the crossfire, regardless of why the Mandalorian was there. So, trying to muster some of that valour he always pretended to have when he was young, he cautiously entered the bunker through the obvious hole in the wall.

The Mandalorian had already left a trail of dead Stormtroopers in his wake and Nathan followed the carnage for a few turns. He considered picking up one of the trooper blasters scattered on the ground, but then thought better of it since he’d probably only end up hurting himself more than anything. Moving along, he came to an intersection and could hear a struggle to the left, so he turned to the right, hoping to recognise any of his surroundings. He couldn’t be certain, but he stopped in front of a door that pulled at the strings of his memory. It was locked, but the electronic latch was old, and it looked like it would give out with some pressure. He searched around for a blunt object, something to hit it with, before remembering the solid Beskar weight in his pocket.

Unsurprisingly, it would have taken more than a door to even scratch the alloy’s surface, and the latch gave out after only a few hits. Feeling a rush of accomplishment, he foolishly pushed the door open without a second thought— and was shot immediately. The incandescent laser beam tore through his shoulder, overwhelming him with searing pain like he'd never felt before. He dropped to the ground in sheer shock, his knees giving out before he even had time to figure out which of the two Stormtroopers in the room had taken aim at him. The stench of burnt skin and the coppery tang of blood inundated his nostrils with sickening speed.

It was bad, it was really bad. His thoughts were racing but louder than anything else he just felt like the dumbest person to ever walk this grim planet, possibly within the whole galaxy. He was going to die, he was actually going to _die_ , over some damn Beskar and a strange green baby. Except— a second shot was never fired, and heavy Mandalorian boots stepped over his limp form in the doorway, before the imposing warrior dispatched both troopers with practised ease.

Somehow, that was even more bewildering than being shot.

Nathan watched, with the last remnants of his consciousness, as the Beskar-clad man walked back within his field of vision. Surprisingly, he was carrying the baby, cradling it, and it didn't appear to be conscious. His chest tightened, mournfully and painfully (although the blaster wound on his shoulder might have contributed to the pain). Was it dead? Had it been killed by those two troopers? Or had the Mandalorian killed it?

And if so… _why?_

The last thing Nathan remembered was weakly reaching up towards the small bundle in the other man’s arms, before succumbing to darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now we can move on to single dad adventures in the next chapters. And Nathan can come to terms with his Beskar kink tbh. It's okay, I understand, I'm not here to judge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din ends up rescuing two helpless beings and it's honestly not the brightest idea he's ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's commented, subscribed, bookmarked and/or left kudos ♥

**Chapter 2 - Honour.**

_Honour (noun): the quality of knowing and doing what is morally right._

~ ~ ~ ~

Din heard the ringing sounds of metal hitting a hard surface before he even saw the man. Stalking around the corner, he stopped and lingered in the shadows, watching curiously while a plain-clothed stranger, not a trooper, pounded loose the latch on a door at the end of the corridor with a blunt object. He continued watching, stunned, while the man flung the door open and was immediately gunned down.

What kind of fool didn't check his perimeter before entering a room?

He rushed forward once the man fell to his knees, reaching the doorway and stepping over him moments after he collapsed the rest of the way. Admittedly, he didn't do much perimeter checking either— but he was wearing Beskar, and he was quick enough to clock the two Stormtroopers half hidden by the med bay at the centre of the room, aiming two blaster shots at each before one of them was even finished reloading.

The asset appeared to be unconscious on the bed, but relief coursed through him when he noticed the monitors showed signs of life. Carefully, Din pried it loose from the myriad of fluid lines and monitoring straps, before he wrapped it in the harsh and paltry blanket it had been resting on. He needed something to keep the baby warm, and somewhat shielded, so for good measure, he decided to pull forward his cloak too, and secured it around the child, tucking it close to his chest in the process. It cooed softly in its sleep, which was rather reassuring.

He glanced back at the figure on the floor, noticing his thin shirt had already begun to soak through with blood. The man was not wearing any kind of armor, and he didn't see any weapons nor even any holsters where one might conceal them. Over the flimsy shirt, was an even flimsier jacket, worn in and stained. Din recognised the man, fairly certain that he'd seen this face before. It was a kind face, with neatly trimmed facial hair and strong features. Yes— this was the man who had watched him at the cantina on numerous occasions. At first, he had perceived it as a threat, someone seizing him up and plotting. When an ambush never came, however, he realised the stranger was just another patron at the bar. Merely a curious local whose gaze was drawn towards him.

Being stared at was nothing new. He was a Mandalorian, and that brought on any number of reactions wherever he went. Some good, some bad. Every time their paths had crossed at the cantina, this man had only watched him. Through the cover and anonymity of his helmet, Din had usually watched him back— at first, to discern the meaning behind this stranger’s interest in him, but eventually… simply because he had a handsome face, framed by short cropped blond hair that always seemed to catch Din’s eye at the busy bar.

He had no doubt that this was the 'watchful blond' who would usually steal his attention away from Karga's drawn-out tales, but why was he here of all places?

As Din stepped closer, the man's eyes widened, transfixed on the child. Had he seen the kid before? Was he working for another party interested in this asset? Din couldn’t see or hear any kind of tracking fob in his possession, and he’d never run across this man on the job in all his years as a bounty hunter. It didn't make sense, but it wasn’t like he had an overabundance of time to wonder about any of it. He needed to get out, and do so quickly.

He continued walking towards the door, and the stranger reached out a trembling hand aimed at the bundle in his arms before finally falling unconscious. Din had every intention to step over him and keep going— but it just did _not_ make any sense. The blonde had no weapons, no gear, no armor. And it had been a display of staggering stupidity, opening the door completely unguarded, so clearly the man had little in the way of fighting skills too. When the dust settled, if he wasn’t dead from his injury and Din left him here, the Imps wouldn’t treat him well… and it just seemed so unlikely that he was one of them.

Conflict warred within him, perhaps fuelled by a misguided sense of responsibility and nobility. If ever there was a moment to be a little less empathetic, this was certainly it. His indecisiveness was truly ill-timed. He was here for the baby. He had the baby. He needed to leave.

Hypothetically, however, he could take the kind-faced stranger with him and then if he needed to cut and run, he could just drop him. Even if he just dumped the man a few streets away, it was likely better than leaving him in this Imperial hole. The problem was, of course, that he needed to make a clean getaway to his ship. It wasn’t the bucket heads he was worried about running from. Half of them couldn’t even remember to disengage the safety on their blasters in a fight. But the other hunters? They posed a real threat, and Din wasn’t entirely confident he was going to have a clear path to his ship.

It would be a considerably harder escape if he was bringing a full-grown person along with him… but logically speaking, this man didn’t have any clear affiliations to the Empire, he’d never posed a threat before, and he obviously didn’t belong in that compound. There was some strategic sense in discovering why he was there, and why he was trying to enter the room where the baby was being kept. Yes— it felt morally wrong to leave him behind, but there was no denying that his presence also raised some rather intriguing questions.

In the end, Din simply didn't have the time to continue second-guessing himself, and it just seemed like bringing the 'watchful blond' along was an easier choice to make (in theory, for the sake of his conscience, even if not in practice).

His solution wasn’t elegant though, and this was not by any means one of his proudest moments. Firstly, he used his cloak to tie a makeshift sling around his torso, securing the kid against his chest. Then, he hoisted the stranger onto his shoulders in the best approximation of a fireman's carry that he could manage, before stalking out of the room and through the narrow corridors. His efforts wouldn’t do the gunshot wound on the man's shoulder any favours, but it was the only way he could think of to get them all out.

It wasn’t safe, it wasn’t practical, and it was absolutely going to get all three of them killed. Still, it was too late to think better of it, and he could already feel blood from the stranger's wound soaking through the fabric of his own tunic, seeping in through the gaps of his armor. It seemed even worse then, to think of just dumping the body on a grimy street corner— even though Din was fully aware that there was a rather large chance he’d arrive at his ship (if he even made it that far), and the stranger would be dead from blood loss.

He surveyed the empty street that led them away from the hole he’d blasted into the side of the building, and towards their final destination, with a growing sense of dread. So that he could aim a blaster, Din had hooked his elbow around the man’s knee, before pulling one of the lifeless arms across his chest, the way he'd practiced countless times during his military training. As a result, he was distantly disappointed in himself when he adjusted his grip and noted that at least the man’s limbs were masking the small bundle strapped to his chest, and might shield the kid if they were to come under fire.

To reiterate: this was not his proudest moment.

Regardless, he pushed aside his fear and resentment with considerable determination, taking every back alley and poorly lit backroad path he knew towards the shipyard. There was no avoiding the main archway, but the longer he could delay a confrontation, the better. Eventually, he stopped to rest in the last safe haven before the impending fight, lowering the weight at his back onto the ground and checking the man's pulse. Surprisingly, it was still there, so he was a fighter in spirit at least. The motion finally woke the baby as well, and curious soft ears fluttered as big expressive eyes met his. It was as if it could see right through his visor, smiling up at him without pretence, and Din didn't really know what to make of how guilt-ridden that made him feel.

“I’m sorry," was all he could think to say, and the child frowned at the words, which was just as unsettling as the smile. “Let's go now and… not die. Hopefully. Maybe.”

It cooed in return, gurgled, seemingly blissfully unconcerned. “Thanks for the vote of confidence." It made another string of unintelligible noises as he crouched down to pick up the unconscious man again. “Yeah, I know. He's heavy but I got it, don’t worry."

It didn't sound particularly convincing, even to his own ears— but then again, he was facing fearful odds and having a one-sided conversation with a strange baby, so... absolutely nothing about his current predicament was inspiring any kind of confidence, least of all his (perhaps delirious) replies to the kid.

Nevertheless, with renewed foolhardy bravery, he walked forward into the open road that was already crawling with hunters, glowing fobs in every corner. His chest ached with worry, but he wasn’t there to back down. He held his head high, adjusted his grip on his blaster, and continued towards the archway, his ship visible just beyond it.

He was keeping this child safe if it was the last thing he did. Which— yeah, it was probably going to be.

~ ~ ~ ~

Well, he couldn’t have predicted how the shootout at the archway was going to play out.

“This is the way,” Vizla had said. A war cry spoken with the kind of conviction that was born from years of devotion and faith. Yes, it was their way, and he would have done the same if anyone else in his clan had been in his shoes… but he was still left dazed and stunned in the aftermath.

The Razor Crest was already in hyperspace and somehow, some way, both he and his charges were alive. The covert, his people— it still felt surreal. When Vizla had landed at the centre of the chaos strapped with heavy artillery and told him to go, his first instinct had been to stay, to fight alongside them. But then their bravery, their sacrifice, would have been for nothing. So he could only fling his rifle back, grab the man that he’d dropped haphazardly on the _speeder_ , and run. He barely stopped to process Karga's cowardly assault on the ship, or Vizla's mid-air salute— or even the repercussions of everything he'd just done.

The child was still strapped to his chest, squirming unhappily, and the man was slumped in the co-pilot's seat, miraculously still breathing. The sight pulled him from his dazed thoughts, reminding him that he should grab the first aid kit and his field cauterizer, at the very least.

Unsure where to place the baby, he left the blanket-wrapped bundle on the seat that he vacated, crouching down to rummage underneath the control console for his supplies. It was a disorganized jungle, since he hardly ever bothered to leave things tidy after a clean out, and he realised some of his habits might have to change if he was to have a kid onboard. The ship was absolutely not child-proof, and it really shouldn’t take him this long to find emergency medical supplies.

When he finally turned around with the kit in hand, the little gremlin had left the blankets and was clumsily climbing into the man's lap. Din struggled to rise on weak, tired muscles, adrenaline rapidly draining from his system. He knocked his helmet against the console in his haste to get up, and by the time he reached the seat, he found the child with the same look of intense concentration he’d seen only once before: the mudhorn. Its little hand (or was it a claw? A paw?) was outstretched, resting lightly on the man's injured shoulder. Din was deathly still for a moment, unsure of what was happening— _if_ anything was even happening.

When the baby finally tumbled down from its precarious foothold on the stranger's stomach, he lunged forward, easily catching the small bundle before it could fall to the ground. It was clearly exhausted, big eyes slowly blinking against the harsh cockpit lighting, but thankfully not showing any signs of pain. Before long, it grabbed onto his chest armor weakly, burrowing into him, and then it was out like a light.

To say he was left confused, was an understatement. He picked up his cloak again to wrap around the child, holding it close to himself, and leaned anxiously forward to inspect the man. Impossibly— truly impossibly, when Din pushed aside the flimsy shirt to examine the wound, it was gone. All that remained was an outline of where it used to be.

His thoughts raced erratically, and he took a hesitant step back. There had undoubtedly been a wound there before. The shirt was torn at the point of impact, and there was dried blood caked over every available surface, neatly outlining the now pristine patch of skin. So... how was this possible? He looked down towards the sleeping child in his arms, genuinely shocked. It was just a baby— albeit a 50-year-old, maybe force-sensitive baby.

What was it? Where did it come from? How could it do these extraordinary things?

He didn’t even know where, or how, to begin asking these questions. But for the time being, he decided the answers didn’t really matter to him. He wanted to protect this child and he would, he felt an inexplicable need to. Or perhaps it was simply a need to atone, to prove to himself that he was capable of something _wholesome_ and _good_ — after decades of violence and, more recently, a string of egregious decisions. He should have never turned the child over to the Imps. He ought to have walked away from the job as soon as he discovered who, or what, his mark was. The shame of failing to do so would follow him for some time to come. And maybe he deserved that.

Looking over at the unconscious man again, fatigue seemed to seep into every corner and crevice of his mind and body. With the ship on autopilot, he carried the blond with one last effort to the cargo bay, cuffing him to a beam sturdy enough to withstand pressure, before retiring to his room and the comfort of his cot. Unwilling to leave the child unattended with a stranger onboard, restrained or otherwise, he laid down on his back, still in full armor, and carefully laid the precious bundle on his tummy. With one arm flung around it to hold it in place, and already in a tired haze, he hoped he wouldn’t roll over in his sleep and crush it under the weight of his Beskar.

It was a genuine concern, but Din fell asleep just as he was, his free hand loosely wrapped around the blaster on his hip, unable to keep his eyes open any longer.

~ ~ ~ ~

He woke sometime later, so startled at first that his fingers tightened around his weapon before he remembered the child. It had escaped his hold, and he felt an insistent pressure at the base of his helmet. Curiously, the kid was trying to burrow its face into the junction where his shoulder met his neck, but the helmet was in the way. Sighing heavily, Din tilted his head backwards and was rewarded with a contented coo and the light tickle of the baby's comically large ears poking into the underside of his jaw. It was... endearing, in a way.

Still foggy with sleep, he considered shutting his eyes just for a moment longer, but a frantic voice cut through the warm and peaceful quiet.

“HELLO?!”

Clearly, the stranger was awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, the kid is a cuddler. Din's just gonna have to learn to deal with that. Live it, love it. And Nathan's a fool, but we knew that already.
> 
> Me, researching a fireman carry while wielding a weapon: **0.0 ... wow, okay.**  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0HAuTK2l9kc (skip to 9:45~ if you're curious)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din continues to juggle more than he can handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's commented, subscribed, bookmarked and/or left kudos ♥

**Chapter 3 - Helmet.**

_Helmet (noun): a hard or padded protective hat, various types of which are worn by soldiers, among others._

~ ~ ~ ~

The child grumbled unhappily when he sat up, clinging onto the edge of his chest plate instead of falling into his lap. The stranger's voice continued to carry through from the cargo bay, growing increasingly distressed.

“You’re the one who saved him,” Din told the kid quietly, no real bite to his words. He pried little hands from his armor and settled the small weight down on the cot next to him. “We’d still be asleep, and he’d still be unconscious if you hadn’t.”

Soft ears lowered, and the baby frowned. It was probably because it didn't understand a single word of what Din had just said, but a corner of his mind feared he was being judged for his comment.

“I’m only kidding,” he said instead. “You did good, kid.” That earned him perked up ears again, and a somewhat happy sounding chirp.

Another plea echoed through the ship then, and it was starting to grate on his sleep-deprived nerves. Din reluctantly climbed out of his cot, turning around to tell the child to stay put, and to be quiet. He closed the door to the room and hoped the kid understood what he was trying to convey, before making his way towards the frantic voice.

Stopping near the entry to the cargo bay, he straightened his shoulders, stretched out his aching muscles, and debated entering with his blaster in hand or simply with it ready on his hip. Ultimately, he decided to have it drawn for maximum effect, and rounded the corner aiming it at the fidgeting figure on the ground.

As soon as he entered, another yell died in the stranger's throat, and the man stared, wide-eyed like a frightened animal.

“Oh _Stars_ , it’s you. Okay—" He cowered further into the corner, which Din didn’t think was actually possible. “Is this real? Are you real? I— where's the baby?”

Intrigued by the line of questioning, he waited for a moment, mulling over his next words and all the while observing the man’s body language. The blond was trembling, panic-stricken eyes flickering around the surrounding area, never settling on him or his blaster for more than a second. He was afraid, which was a good sign, all things considered.

Finally, Din settled on asking the most obvious question. "What do you know about the child?”

Before responding, the blond fell once— twice, attempting to stand up, eventually straightening out inelegantly and with considerable effort. “What?"

Cautiously, Din took half a step back and adjusted the grip on his blaster, even though it was entirely possible that the man just hadn't understood his words. For a moment, vacant eyes stared at him but didn't seem to actually _see_ anything, striking blue irises clouded with a sudden bout of dizziness. Patiently, Din waited for the stranger's gaze and mind to clear. The he repeated the question, for good measure.

"I don't know anything. I just— is it okay?” It seemed like a genuine inquiry. When he didn’t say anything in return, the man continued, slurring his words a little. “I just saw it, and then I saw you, so then I thought I should get it out— before you blew up the building or something.”

Din couldn't really make heads or tails of that response, so he figured he might as well get right to the point. “What do you want with it?”

“Nothing! Look— I don’t know. I don’t feel well. Wasn’t I shot?!”

He had to resist the urge to rush towards the stranger as he lost his footing and nearly toppled to the ground. It seemed that his window of interrogation was rapidly shrinking, as the blond's mental state continued to deteriorate even further. Din could only assume that whatever magic the kid worked on him, didn’t actually undo the effects of blood loss, or the remnants of physical trauma.

“Yes, you were," he replied. Unsure if that would comfort the man or simply worsen his bewilderment. "Sit down.”

Din watched, patiently still, as he didn't sit down so much as he just deflated, knees giving out beneath him. “What’s happening to me? I— where am I?!”

He sounded on the verge of tears, panic giving way to hysteria. It was unsettling. Din was not in the business of torture, be it physical or emotional, but what could he say? He still didn't know what the stranger's intentions were, and now he was nonsensical, disoriented and weak. Not in any way an ideal state for interrogation.

Regardless, before he could think of what to say next, he felt tugging on his pants and looked down to see the child peeking out from behind his legs, cooing softly towards the figure in the corner. He could hear a startled “oh” from the man, and he bent down to pick up the errant gremlin, shielding it from view and attempting to quietly scold it.

“I told you to stay,” he muttered.

It only chirped in response, and Din was honestly beginning to wonder if this was some kind of language. He turned back to address the blond but found him passed out again. Mouth lax and chest rising and falling slowly, deeply. In contrast, the kid was squirming in his hold, making unhappy huffs, and he sighed heavily before putting it back down on the ground. Immediately, it began trotting towards the unconscious figure, taking off with surprising speed. When Din reached out to grab it again, it was _not_ happy.

It began struggling in earnest, its huffs and puffs bordering on cries. It was upsetting to see, and Din might not know much about raising children, but he did know that you couldn’t give in to every tantrum. He was still so very tired, too. He really couldn't muster the energy to decipher the child's mood, or what exactly had soured it.

There was no immediate threat, and the man needed to rest and heal anyway, so he simply turned and left the room, with every intention of going back to bed. Thankfully, the gremlin quieted once he lied down, and it started pushing ineffectually at his helmet again.

He tilted his head back like last time, but it wasn’t enough. The kid kept nudging against the heavy metal, so he craned his neck even further, trying to expose his shoulder as much as possible. It seemed to settle down after a small shuffle, so he allowed sleep to begin pulling him under again.

Only— after a few minutes, he felt his helmet being slowly dragged upwards. Panic seized him, and he sat up before he could think better of it, displacing the child so it tumbled from his chest onto the sheets.

"No! Stop it!" He said it louder, harsher, than he intended to, and he was still in full armor, so he could have easily hurt the small being in his haste to dislodge it. It started crying, and he felt like an absolute brute. Removal of one's helmet was allowed in private between parents and their children. However, this wasn’t his child.

Din’s heart ached from the cries echoing through the room. "I'm sorry." He tried to convey it with his voice, and with soft caresses to its sensitive ears, but that didn’t seem to help. He started unlatching and removing other parts of his armour instead, thinking that maybe just overall less Beskar on his body would appease the kid.

There was a pause in the crying, and wide eyes watched him as he removed his cuirass, the vambraces, and then slipped the pauldrons off his shoulders. Curious ears fluttered, and then it reached a small hand towards him, brows furrowed in concentration. Within seconds, an invisible force started pulling his helmet upwards again, and he pushed it back down, with no small measure of regret. It had been decades since he'd removed his helmet in front of another being.

"Don't tire yourself out," he pleaded, gathering the teary child in his arms. "I can't take it off."

The look he received in return could only be described as 'hurt'. It devastated him. This was surely a new kind of particularly cruel torture. The kid didn't understand, and to be fair, Din wouldn't expect a baby to have the maturity to, even one so gifted. When he was younger, he didn't understand why his rescuers didn't show their faces to him either. In fact, no one ever did. At his age, no one claimed him as their child. He was taken in, supported, fed, educated, and accepted within their culture, but he never had adoptive parents. He was also yet to have a partner, to establish a formal union with someone he'd be able to remove his helmet for. So all in all, it was no exaggeration to say that it had truly been decades since anyone had seen his face.

They stared at each other for some time and he was conflicted beyond belief. It was only a baby, after all. Who knew what it’d been through, or the last time anyone had shown it any kindness or affection. Babies needed warmth, right? They needed to see, and feel, and scent their parents— but that was just the thing! This was not _his_ child. And yet… realistically, he was now likely the closest thing it had to a parent (his utter lack of experience, or finesse, for parenting notwithstanding). He was the only person this baby had. At least for the time being, and as far as he knew. So in a way, Din figured that it was his _duty_ to accept the responsibility of being a parent figure.

It was daunting though, dizzying and difficult. Harder than he thought it would be. It wasn’t like the child would care about his looks, or his messy hair, but he felt so vulnerable. It was frightening and not a position he was accustomed to being in. Nevertheless, he reached up and finally, in the presence of someone else and in plain sight, pried the helmet off his face, taking a moment to adjust to the unfiltered light. Stalling for time before he met the curious gaze of the child, he also removed the gloves, running his fingers through his hair as well.

When he finally looked up, it smiled at him, followed by a string of unintelligible noises. He felt awkward, and somehow like he should introduce himself to this baby that probably didn’t understand a single thing he ever said.

“Din,” it sounded weaker and quieter than he meant it to. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “I’m Din.”

He pointed at himself, as if that somehow helped it understand what he was trying to convey. The irony of the fact that he didn’t know the child’s name, and had no way to learn it, didn’t escape him. Silence settled between them, and he itched to slip the helmet back on. The baby shuffled forward eventually, both arms outstretched towards him. So in the end, he put the heavy piece aside and gathered the gremlin in his arms instead.

“Can we sleep now? Are we done with the theatrics, your highness?” All he got in return were gurgles and chirps, but it did sound happy, and that soothed his conscience. Once he settled comfortably, he found it was surprisingly easy to fall back asleep, despite the warm intruder puffing soft breaths against the column of his throat.

~ ~ ~ ~

Until he could solve the enigma of the stranger, he didn’t want to land them on some distant Outer Rim planet to restock and refuel. Din would check on him every so often, feel for his pulse, take his temperature, give him some nutritional fluids. He considered moving him, laying him down on the only table that he had on the ship, but he couldn’t figure out a way to properly restrain him. He had to settle for manoeuvring him into a prone position, still cuffed to the beam, with a bundle of towels as a makeshift pillow.

The child was finally allowed to approach him too, but all it did was stare at Din with an obvious air of confusion as if to say, _why isn’t he awake?_

“He lost a lot of blood, kiddo. Give it time.” He’d taken to speaking with the baby often throughout the day as well. It was something that was entirely foreign to him. He was used to living in silence, to not hearing the sound of his own voice for weeks on end sometimes. But the child didn’t like the quiet, and usually some soft words (as well as removing his helmet) would curb any tantrum or distress.

The biggest challenge so far had been convincing the kid to eat, because it didn’t seem to like any of his ration packs. Truthfully, he didn’t like them either, but food was merely fuel and ration packs were cheap. Still, he was worried that the child only deigned to eat when it felt too much hunger not to. Either that, or it simply didn't require much sustenance. He had no idea. He thought babies were supposed to eat a lot.

He was also concerned because it had yet to… relieve itself, and he hadn’t bathed it either. It was wearing a cloth diaper of sorts, and it didn't smell any particularly bad way. Din was so far out of his depth in that regard, that he decided to just to roll with it, wait and see. Surely the child would complain at him if it was in any real discomfort.

It was three days later, as he was working on crafting a new bassinet, that he heard a yell from the man travel through the ship again. Taking the womp rat into his sleeping quarters, he attempted once more to convey the message that it should stay put, to be quiet. It stared blankly at him and he supposed that was all the response he was going to get.

He didn’t enter the bay with his blaster in hand this time, thinking that maybe appearing less threatening might actually work in his favour. When he drew closer, the stranger was standing, looking a lot steadier and clear-eyed than he had before.

They just stared at each other for a moment. Or rather, Din stared whilst the man wasn’t quite gazing in the correct direction to meet his eyes through the visor. But that’s okay, he was used to that.

“I’m really confused,” was all the blond said when he fractured the tense silence that had settled between them.

“I bet you are.” He didn’t want to be threatening, but he did need answers all the same. “Thing is, before I tell you anything, I’m going to need a clear and concise explanation of why you were at the Imperial compound that night. Sound fair?”

“No.”

He nearly huffed out a laugh at the audacity of the response. “That’s too bad, it’s not really negotiable.”

“Can I have some water at least?” Din didn’t answer, and after a few moments of silence, the stranger actually rolled his eyes at him. “I’m not known for speaking concisely, if I’m being honest. And my throat is killing me.”

Seeing as that wasn’t entirely unreasonable, he conceded. It was a good thing that he did so, in fact. On his way back from the onboard galley with a tall glass of water, he ran into the child tottering along towards the rear of the ship.

“What are you doing?!” There wasn’t any anger in his voice, if anything he was hopelessly amused. “Come on kid, I really need you to work with me on this. I have to get some intel off this guy, and I can’t do that with you stealing the spotlight.”

Locks were seemingly useless for a force-sensitive baby. Still, he placed the child back in his room, with another plea for it to stay inside, before securing the door closed again. Returning to the cargo bay afterwards, he found the man trying to peer into his shirt, no doubt attempting to make sense of the missing wound. Yeah— Din wasn’t entirely sure how to explain that, actually.

For a moment, the blonde looked like he was going to ask something but then thought better of it, sighing and adjusting his stance around the beam instead. Din approached cautiously, holding out the water. Once he was sure the man had a firm hold on the glass, he retreated to a safe distance, waiting patiently while he emptied it in only a few gulps.

The (only somewhat concise) story that followed was clear enough and it checked out, for the most part. The stranger had a bar of Imperial-branded Beskar, to corroborate the detail of his payment for polishing the iron that now made up the bulk of his armor. He also guessed that he'd restored upwards of 20 units of the precious alloy, and Din knew that the total bounty had been 24.

Plus, he accurately described Din's ambush on the compound. From the timing and location of the explosive charge, to the pathways he took before he reached the intersection that led to the room where the man had been shot. It all lined up. Even his account of the day before, of catching a glimpse of the child before being dismissed from the compound, seemed to line up with the time Din exchanged the asset for the bounty. In fact, the blond’s description made it entirely plausible that what he'd seen, and his conversation with the Imp, was just _minutes_ after the Mandalorian himself had left with his payment in hand.

Was it truly a weird case of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time? He was still playing back the events of the two days in question, trying to find plot holes in the stranger's story, or shaky details. He was coming up short. The man seemed sincere, and much too flustered by his situation to come up with such a detailed but airtight scenario, if it were to be a lie.

"I was shot, right?” Din knew this question was inevitable, but he still hadn’t considered how to answer it. Thankfully, the blond continued rambling. “I mean— I know I was. What happened? And why were _you_ there?"

He did say he would provide answers in return for an explanation. But that didn't mean he had to be particularly detailed. "We were there for the same reason. You got shot in the shoulder, you fell unconscious, I carried you out."

"To... your ship?"

"Yes."

"With the baby?"

He didn’t like where this was going. “Yes."

"So…” The stranger sounded much too smug for someone currently handcuffed to a beam. “It's your baby?"

"Sure."

"Really?” A quiet coo echoed through the room, surprisingly close to them. “Because I'm looking at it right now and— I always assumed you were human. Are you hiding ears like that under your helmet?"

Well— that was unfortunate timing, kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say... get used to Baby Yoda cramping Din's style. It's got the big bad Mandalorian wrapped around its tiny finger already.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan and Din are forced to accept the reality of their situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's commented, subscribed, bookmarked and/or left kudos ♥

**Chapter 4 - The Force.**

_The Force (noun): a Galactic Basic Standard term used to describe the concept of a mysterious energy field generated by life. It can be manipulated by those sensitive to its spiritual power, granting them extraordinary abilities._

~ ~ ~ ~

There was no point delaying an introduction any longer, so Din picked up the intruder. He couldn't quite mask the exasperated sigh that escaped him, and in return, the child appeared to look up at him almost apologetically.

"It's not actually your kid, is it?" The blond asked.

"For all intents and purposes, it is." On instinct, he hugged the baby closer to his chest. "And if you have a problem with that, you're going to have a problem staying on this ship."

"Well I don't want to stay on this ship! I want to go home.” Din actually meant something along the lines of, _I’ll throw you out of an airlock if you become a problem_ , but the threat seemed entirely lost on the stranger. “And I want to know what happened. Please— there’s no wound. Explain that to me.”

Should he? Would that be revealing too much about the kid? There was little doubt in his mind that the child’s abilities were the reason it was being hunted. Plus, to be fair, he didn’t actually understand what happened, or how it was able to do what it did.

After a small shuffle, clearly made uncomfortable by the silence and his unwavering stare, the stranger spoke again, timidly. “Are you a Jedi?”

Not for the first time in his life, Din was thankful that his helmet masked his surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know— never mind, it’s stupid.” He just continued staring, waiting patiently for the awkward silence to draw out the man’s thoughts again. “I’ve just— I’ve read of things like this, in old tales about Jedi. But I’m sure they were just embellished.”

“What did they say?” He took half a step forward and the stranger averted his gaze, uneasy again. He should really ask for a name, actually.

“Just— I don’t know. I don’t really remember. Something about the transference of force. I mean— it’s something that flows through everything and everyone, right? Supposedly, Jedi healers are conduits. They can harness it from within themselves and give it to their patients. But— that sounds dumb, I guess.”

Din didn’t know what to say, and despite his evasive tone, this was clearly a topic of interest for the man. Admittedly, the Mandalorians had too much history deeply intertwined with the force and its wielders, both the light and the dark, for him to be so unknowledgeable about the topic. Being the guardian of what might be a force-sensitive baby now, he should probably remedy that.

“You believe it?” He asked eventually. “Those tales of healing, the Jedi, the force, all of it?”

“Of course I do! I mean— I know the force is real… the Jedi and the Sith.” The blond looked around, as if simply uttering hushed words about the infamous force wielders might summon them, or result in a punishment of some kind. “I've never been sure about the healing part, though. So… are you?”

“Am I what?” He obviously knew what the man was asking, but he needed to stall for time. Maybe this was an opportunity he should seize, maybe he could take the child’s place and keep its abilities hidden.

“Force-sensitive. You know— a Jedi.”

“I’m not a Jedi,” and he had no hope of pretending to be one. Merely being _force-sensitive_ , on the other hand… maybe that would suffice as an explanation. 

The blond glanced at the missing wound on his shoulder again. “Right— but did you do this?”

“Yes, I did.” The child squirmed unhappily in his arms. It looked up at him and somehow, it actually seemed confused, as if it understood the conversation, and it wasn’t sure why Din was lying. _It’s for the best_ , he wanted to say, _we can’t go around advertising your abilities_.

He met the stranger’s eyes again, watching him mull over a response. "Well… thanks, then. I— yeah, thank you. For not leaving me there too.”

“What’s your name?” It was as good a time as any to ask it. And if he was being honest, he wanted to delay the inevitable burden of telling the man that he couldn’t return home. That there was surely a price on his head now, on all of them. 

The weight of that settled heavy on his chest. Perhaps the stranger shouldn’t be thanking him, maybe he’d just ruined the man’s life, ripped him away from his home. Maybe he had a family back on Nevarro, a child of his own even, and they could be in danger now. He really hadn’t stopped to consider the intricacies of dragging another person into the fray.

“It’s Nathan. We’ve kind of met before, you know. Well, not met, just— I’ve seen you before, is what I mean. You’re a bounty hunter, right?”

“Yes.” Maybe not so much now.

“And your name is?”

Din was quiet for a moment. There wasn’t a strict tradition surrounding names for Mandalorians, but it was rare to exchange them all the same. The philosophy of their culture was unity, togetherness. They were supposed to be more than their individual selves, _many existing as one_. It was rather unusual to trade names with strangers, more so with ones outside the covert.

“Mando will do.”

“Right, okay.” Disappointment seemed to tinge the man’s reply. “And the little swamp frog?”

The child cooed. Eerily, it seemed once more that it understood the conversation, and knew that it was being talked about. It pushed and pulled at his sleeve until he set it down, cautiously watching the stranger— Nathan, for his reaction. For some reason, the kid kept its small hand wrapped around one of his gloved fingers, awkwardly pulling him along while it approached the man. It was uncomfortable, and his cloak was at risk of getting in the way, as he bent forward at an even lower angle so the baby could effectively hold his hand.

It wasn’t necessarily the strong and commanding image he wanted to be portraying in front of the blond, but it would have to do. Nathan was clearly amused by the scene, and the gremlin was cute, even Din could admit as much. 

“The child is— well, actually, I don’t know its name.” He replied eventually.

“Oh, I see.” Nathan crouched down, one cuffed hand cautiously reaching out towards one of the kid's ears. “Why did you come for it? That night at the compound, I mean.” He glanced up at Din before his hand made contact, as if to make sure he was allowed to touch. 

“Same reason as you, I would imagine.” Not quite true, a resentful corner of his mind reminded him. The child wouldn’t have been in that place at all if he hadn’t traded it in to begin with. 

Nathan tugged on the pointy ear, just lightly. For the first time, Din heard the baby giggle. Looking up at him again with a mischievous grin, the blond repeated the motion and the child giggled even louder. It let go of Din’s finger and shuffled the rest of the way forward on its own, prompting the man to lean in closer. Soft ears fluttered before it reached out and, in the most natural display of innocence, it wrapped a little hand around the lobe of Nathan’s ear and tugged at it too. 

It was too much, even for Din. A laugh escaped him, and Nathan nearly fell backwards from his crouching position, laughter bursting from him as well.

“Are you hungry?” He finally asked. “I have some ration packs I could prepare.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Nathan sure was hungry. Din had never seen someone eat meagre dry rations with so much gusto, made all the more surprising by the fact that the child was on the blond's lap and eagerly accepting small morsels. Feeding the kid had been such a pain for him, and now this stranger was having no troubles whatsoever. Din was equal parts relieved and impressed.

Nathan's success likely had something to do with how he was presenting the food, actually. The tiny portions of the dry crisps that he offered the child were softened and mashed together, after he dabbed them in his cup of sweet tea. It was a small gesture to make it more palatable for the baby, and something that Din hadn’t even considered. 

Meanwhile, the kitchen they were in wasn’t a particularly spacious room, or well equipped. The ship as a whole was small, old and not in the cleanest of conditions— but it was _home_ to him all the same, and he wasn’t used to worrying about someone else’s opinion of it. To his credit, Nathan didn’t actually say anything out loud, merely frowned as his curious eyes travelled across every visible nook and cranny, occasionally glancing down at the bundle on his lap. 

_Yes_ , Din wanted to say in response to the unspoken thoughts, _I am aware that everything around us is far from child-proof._ He kept silent though, and let the blond’s wordless judgement pass without remark. While he prepared a different serving of rations, avoiding the gaze of the man, he instead tried to tell him (with as little detail as possible) that he didn’t think he could return home. 

The news weren’t well received.

“But I’ve never left Nevarro before. All of my things, my shop—”

“Family?” Din tried to sound casual, but guilt was threatening to choke him.

“No. But it’s just— that was my home. I don’t have any credits with me, not even any clothes.” It was uncomfortable, to witness a man tally up the sum of a life he’d just lost. “I have nothing now, is that what you’re telling me?”

He didn’t have an answer to that, but he still hoped that he might at least be able to reunite Nathan with a family member. “Are they elsewhere in the galaxy?”

“Who?”

“Your family.”

“No.” When he turned around, placing the warm food on the table, Nathan looked away from him. “I don’t— I have no family. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. That feeling of not having anyone was never just _fine_. Despite having a clan, the covert, his people— that same dull ache that Din could see mirrored in the man's gaze never left him. There were different shades of being alone, and there were some things in this universe that couldn’t really be replaced once they were lost. Family, he thought, was most certainly one of them. 

Regardless, his guilt eased somewhat. He hadn’t torn a stranger away from his relatives, just— his home and his livelihood. In hindsight, that wasn’t a whole lot better. Thankfully, Nathan spoke again around a spoonful of gunk, exempting him from having to craft some kind of meagre reply. “So what do we do now?”

_We?_ Din hadn’t planned for any of this, and he had no idea what to do. Survive and protect the child— that would be at the root of all his actions now. Logically, he should find an Outer Rim planet first, somewhere where they could hide temporarily. It would give him time to think of a more permanent solution. And ultimately… he should probably find out where the kid was from, and he should return it to its people. 

That thought, however, unexpectedly saddened him. Then again, what more could he do? If this child was indeed 50 years old then, well— it was still a _baby_. How long would it live for? Would Din himself even live long enough to see it reach a semblance of adulthood? _Stars_ , that was an even more devastating thought. 

So, back to square one. He didn’t know what to do, and Nathan was apparently perceptive enough to recognise it. “You have no idea, do you?” There weren't any traces of judgement in the question. It was well-intentioned, sympathetic even. 

Din couldn’t do anything but reluctantly admit it. "Not a single clue, no.”

“Honestly— I’m still confused.” Carefully pushing the now empty plate aside, the blond settled back in his chair, studying the child on his lap. “There’s a horde of bounty hunters and an Imperial remnant after us because you, what— rescued a baby? Why do they want it?”

“Because—" Din trailed off, unsure of what he should actually say next. He’d thoughtlessly dragged this man into his mess, perhaps it was only fair to be honest with him. Telling Nathan would also mean facing the shame of what he’d done, and maybe that was a small measure of penance he should pay. Plus, it would also reveal the truth of the bounty that Nathan himself had unknowingly played a part in delivering to him. It seemed, in the end, that it was the right thing to do.

“Because I’m not force-sensitive. But I think the child is.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Nathan appeared to be speechless, and Din would wager that was not something the other man was known to be. It was quite the story, as it turned out. He didn’t have any particular gifts for storytelling, for spinning grand tales, but even with his minimal abilities, his account of events seemed to have shocked the man into silence. From the bounty, to his capture of the asset, the run in with Jawas, the incident with the mudhorn, his exchange of the child for the Beskar, their subsequent escape from the compound the following night, the confrontation at the archway, and ultimately, the child’s effort to heal the man’s wound— Din exhausted himself just talking about it. Shame accompanied him the whole time.

As if it sensed the tension growing between them afterwards, the kid climbed onto the table and shuffled across to him. It held out its arms in order for Din to pick it up and gather it close to his chest again. It was either blissfully unaware of what he’d done, or far too forgiving for its own good. It cooed at him and subtly nudged itself just beneath his helmet, while Nathan watched them, meeting his eyes through the visor with surprising accuracy. 

Din could feel the weight of the blond’s gaze. He felt seen, judged— but hopefully not too unkindly. It seemed like it was an interminable amount of time before the man finally spoke to him. “I’d say you’re right then. I can’t go home, and now you— _we_ , have to make sure nothing happens to this kid.”

“That’s it?” Somehow, he thought the blond would have more to say. Other questions, accusations even. Maybe a plea to be returned home regardless of the risk. Or maybe a demand to be released elsewhere, so he wouldn't have to play a part in any of this.

“What do you want me to say?” He seemed disappointed, but not angry. Din wasn’t sure which reaction he would have actually preferred. “I’m stranded on this ship. I’m stuck with you, and you’re stuck with me. That child is stuck with us, and— I bet there’s nothing I could say to you, about what you did, that you haven’t already told yourself. So yeah, _that’s it_.”

Was this really the mess he’d made of his life? After a series of bad decisions and ill-fated events, this was his reality now? Stranded (as Nathan had so aptly put it), and alone with a _baby_ that wasn’t his, and a stranger.

_Yeah, that’s it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din's overly pessimistic, let's face it. He's gonna fall in luv~, he just doesn't know it yet. Baby Yoda will continue to interrupt things at the worst time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The struggles of life with a baby and a grown man are really not to be underestimated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly: yes, you might notice that I shortened the time they spent on Sorgan. I didn't want to focus on it. 
> 
> Secondly: can't thank everyone enough for the kind and supportive responses to this story. You guys always make my day.

**Chapter 5 - Nook.**

**Nook** (noun): a corner or recess, especially one offering seclusion or security.

\- - - - -

They were two months into communal living and Din didn’t know how much more he could possibly endure. And despite the _staggering_ amounts of attention that he demanded, it wasn’t even the kid that was fraying Din's nerves.

(Yes, the child was a _'he'_. Nathan had offered to bathe him one evening and returned to the cockpit afterwards with that astute observation to share.)

The problem began and ended squarely with the full-grown man whose scent and overall presence now occupied every inch of the ship. Every crevice. Every quiet spot. Every shared area. It was simply becoming increasingly difficult to find just a moment to be alone. Among other things. _Things_ like the fact that Nathan was everywhere and nowhere at once. He was free to wander around the ship at will, which meant there was rarely a safe time for Din to unwind without his armour, let alone without his helmet.

But it wasn’t just the lack of privacy, it was… _everything_. It was exiting his room on the second day of their journey to find the blond walking around shirtless with an unapologetic shrug and a quick, “I washed my shirt. All that dried blood was getting a little itchy”. It was having to give up some of his clothes because, yeah, the man had none of his own and at least they shared similar proportions since Din was only a little taller. It was riffling through his storage and realising that Nathan had stolen a handful of his favourite blankets to set up a makeshift bed. And yes-- he’d lost a portion of his cargo bay so that the blond could claim a section for himself, with sheets haphazardly hung up for privacy. It was turning corners or climbing down ladders and actually physically running _into_ the solid weight of the other man. Always trying and failing to navigate around each other in the narrow corridors and walkways.

Even the unexpectedly _nice_ things were unsettling in a way Din couldn’t really explain. Nathan’s creative ways of adding flavour to ration packs. Coming back to his room at the end of a day and finding his clothes folded and laundered on top of his cot. Nathan bathing the child and taking it upon himself to do some of the things that Din felt wholly unqualified for. Like diaper changes.

Several things around his ship were also slowly but surely fixed or otherwise replaced, tuned, cleaned up. While Din had finished the bassinet he'd been working on, Nathan had crafted a carrier that he could strap to his back and keep the child in. The blond was clearly skilful and resourceful. The kid _loved_ it.

For all intents and purposes, they were coexisting just fine. Nathan made every effort to respect his traditions and try to keep out of his way.

Din felt bent out of shape.

\- - - - -

Somehow, the two weeks that they’d spent on Sorgan were actually much worse. The villagers had saddled the men together in the barn so he’d spent the entire time sleeping with his helmet on and fighting off the kid’s frustrated attempts to take it off. Nathan had tried to reassure him that they could work something out, maybe a blindfold of some description, promising that he wouldn’t look around the flimsy divider that separated their makeshift beds-- but it was a risk Din just couldn’t take.

Eventually the child even started sleeping with Nathan, latched on to his chest or his neck instead. That kind of stung him just a little.

When they were forced to leave, there was a small flicker of relief within him. It was irrational and selfish. Surely, if their stay looked to become more permanent, he could have found better lodgings for all of them... but the stagnant lifestyle had also begun to wear him down. Even though it was amazing for the child and Nathan was thriving, making fast friends with the majority of the locals by the time they’d left.

Din, on the other hand, once again felt restless and bent out of shape. Watching the way the blond seemed to ingrain himself into the village in such a short time, comfortable in his surroundings and even drawing interested stares from some of the villagers, somehow rubbed him the wrong way. Again, it was irrational. He was a Mandalorian. The helmet was kind of a turn off for many people, it didn’t necessarily encourage socializing. There was no reason for Din to feel like an outcast, or like he wasn’t as welcome as the baby and Nathan were.

He was welcomed _enough_ , actually. Cara sure did her fair share of teasing over Omera’s apparently 'obvious' interest in him. But then again, on their last day there, she also teased him over the fact that the villagers had given the barn to Nathan and him because they assumed that the two men, with their baby, were a couple. Just another moment where he was immeasurably glad that the cover of his helmet hid the flush that spread across his face.

So, to say he felt a 'flicker' of relief after they departed was perhaps an understatement, if he was being honest.

Then again... leaving Sorgan just meant that he was back to sharing the confined space of his home with another man and the child. But at least they’d left the planet with more than just ration packs for food, and with some much-needed clothes and supplies. Nathan actually had a mattress now.

But he still hadn’t given back any of Din’s blankets.

\- - - - -

It was a week into their slow journey towards another off-the-map backwoods planet when the ship was attacked. To conserve fuel, and because of the higher concentration of asteroid fields in that system, they were out of hyperspace and a hunter had come across the Razor Crest by chance. Just his luck.

The contest was short lived. Din was a good enough fighter to shake off the attack and bring down the spacecraft, but they didn’t necessarily escape scot free. Their auxiliary motor was busted... and so were the air recycling and temperature control systems. As one might expect, within hours it got Very Cold.

It became a problem immediately, especially for the child. They only managed to survive the first day because Nathan was carrying the baby around beneath 3 layers of shirts and two blankets, strapped directly to his chest so they could share body heat. They even slept like that, under even more layers in the blond’s cargo bay corner.

By the second day, however, every morsel of hot air seemed to have slipped through every available crack in the ship and left them with nothing but the freezing stillness of space. It burned the back of Din’s throat, made his fingers stiff even through the cover of his gloves. It wasn't long before he was forced to take off the bulk of his armour in favour of layering on extra shirts. Beskar, as he well knew, was very quick to absorb the cold. 

They were _not_ coping well but still had half a day’s journey to go before they made an emergency landing in Tatooine. It was 100% the last place he wanted to take them, but they were leaking fuel and running out of oxygen reserves. Not to mention... at the risk of actually _freezing to death_ onboard the icicle his ship had become. It was all together one of the least ideal situations they could have found themselves in.

Without even his helmet on, he was bundled beneath about five layers of sheets, blankets and towels when he heard the knocking. His room was eerily quiet. You never noticed the constant whirring of the ship’s many life support systems until some rather major ones were completely gone.

Too worn out to even move and fighting off bone-deep exhaustion, Din mustered just enough energy to call out a weak “yeah” in response, doubtful that it could even be heard on the other side of the door.

When it whooshed open though, Nathan’s trembling voice cut through the haze in his mind.

“Can we come in?”

“M’no helm'.”

Just the effort of replying seemed to wear him out even further. These were not good signs, he knew that. He was well versed in the symptoms of hypothermia. Yet he felt so tired he couldn’t follow a thought process for more than a few seconds. Any plan of action that begun forming in his mind was lost before he could make sense of it.

“I can see that." Right, he forgot. He’d left the helmet along with the rest of his armour by the door. "Can you put it on?”

“Hones-- don’think I-- no."

So, so _tired_. Could he even feel his hands anymore? He didn’t think so. How could Nathan expect him to put on his helmet then? Din was so _confused_. His helmet was an ice box. He didn't want to.

An unhappy cry from the child echoed its way under the blankets. He felt utterly useless then. Nathan was keeping the baby warm while he was laying on his cot in a fetal position. Just giving up. Quite literally doing nothing but distantly observing all the ways his motor skills and mental faculties were shutting down.

“Are you alright?”

A weight settled at the base of the mattress. He should feel worried that five layers was all that separated his uncovered face from another person. He didn’t feel it though. Just exhaustion. He didn’t even feel the cold. Nothing but fatigue. And a little dizziness even though his eyes were shut. It didn't make sense. Nothing was making sense anymore.

“... whad’you thin'?”

It was a rhetorical question. Nathan hadn't expected an answer. Why did he even bother?

“I know. Just--” The other man was practically stuttering, obviously overwhelmed by cold tremors. “I think-- we should huddle up. Feels like it's gotten colder.”

“Don'feel it.”

Was he even making sense anymore?

“I’m not a doctor but-- I don’t think that’s good.”

He could hear the dull thuds of what he assumed were Nathan’s shoes hitting the ground. The weight on the cot moved closer, grew heavier.

“S'not.” _But I'm fine_ , he wanted to say as well. _Don’t worry, just keep the baby warm_.

That was too many words though. And he wasn't fine. Din didn’t have enough air in his lungs to get it out. He felt the blankets, towels and sheets shift above him. Low light filtered through when they were lifted just slightly.

“Don’t.” He meant to scream it out, but in the end it was barely a whisper. _Stop, you’ll see me_ , never even left his throat. He didn’t even have the strength to pull the covers back towards himself.

“I won’t look-- I promise. I’ll keep my back to you.”

He was powerless to make sure that the promise would be kept. Soon enough Nathan was beneath the layers as well, just inches in front of him. It was an awkward affair while the blond tried to keep his face obscured from view and slowly shuffled backwards once he’d laid down.

Nevertheless, like a flower getting a glimpse of sunlight, his muscles seemed to bloom. Instinctively, he closed the gap between them and plastered his front to the man’s back, trying to soak up as much warmth from him as possible. A trembling hand reached back and grabbed onto one of his, pulling his arm forward into a desperate half hug. Din could feel the baby underneath the blond's clothes and a small flutter of the pointy ears brought a bit of unexpected warmth to his chest.

Before long, he felt the rumble of Nathan’s next words against him more than he actually heard them. Even through the layers that still separated their bodies.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“I kno'. Don’look.”

Hesitantly, he buried his cold nose at the base of the blond’s neck. Nathan shivered. Din was craving the relief, so he tried to puff out some warm breaths in lieu of an apology but didn't move until the ache in his nose eased.

“Tell me something. Tell me-- about your parents.”

“Dead.”

This time, he felt Nathan’s weak burst of wry laughter shake through them.

“More than that. We have to keep you awake.”

So Din told him more than that. Slowly and maybe nonsensically. He told the blond every little memory he held about his parents, his home, his school, his friends. Anything that he could remember, up until the day he’d lost them. He didn’t even have to speak loudly, his mouth was a mere breath away from Nathan’s ear after all. It felt like sharing state secrets with his most trusted advisor.

As time wore on, it wasn’t so difficult to talk in full sentences either. To overcome the slurring and the dizziness. It did the job admirably, really. It kept him awake for what felt like a decade but was instead just a few hours. Just enough time for the onboard computer to beep and signal their arrival in Tatooine air space.

“Will you be able to land?”

The blond had kept the conversation going the entire time with further questions. His voice came through with renewed clarity now, devoid of cold tremors as well.

Obviously Din felt renewed too. He could actually feel his hands now. One of them was caressing the baby shaped bundle strapped to Nathan’s chest over the layers of his shirts. He could also feel his lips, his nose. Every time they brushed ever so lightly over Nathan’s soft skin. He could feel his feet too, tucked in close to the blond's.

Under interminable layers, packed so tightly together, they’d somehow held back the haze that had been consuming him. All this time, with his face safely sheltered from the cold in the nook where Nathan’s shoulder met his neck, they'd managed to share a small and comforting measure of warmth. 

This probably saved his life.

Din found himself actually reluctant to let go of the unexpected and intimate reprieve that they’d cultivated. But it was hardly a choice. They needed to land.

“Yes,” he answered eventually. “Just give me a moment, please.”

A hand found his under the covers and squeezed. Just for the briefest of seconds, before the blonde started shuffling away to exit their cocoon of blankets.

“Okay,” Nathan replied, keeping his back to Din the entire time. “I’ll let you get ready then. I’ll-- we’ll meet you upstairs.”

Din pulled the covers back over himself as soon as he could. Stayed very still until he heard his door closing.

\- - - - -

The ship was badly damaged, which wasn’t any surprise to him. The repairs, however, were more costly than what they could strictly afford. The last thing he wanted to do was take on a job, especially the one that the young bounty hunter had proposed. 

“I don’t trust this guy," Nathan told him. Concerned. Afraid, even. It took a long time for the blond to release his arm and let him go.

He watched Din walk away like it was hurting him to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I really do the "we have to share body heat or we'll die" cliche? Yes, yes I did. I even researched the symptoms and progression of hypothermia. Sorry. 
> 
> Toss a coin- I mean, comment. Toss a comment to your Witcher. Wait.. no... Author. Let's try again - toss a comment to your author. If you'd like to, of course. Thank you. (I'm sorry if you haven't seen the Witcher and are very confused by what you just read).


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din and Nathan work their way through a disagreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our (soon to be) love birds navigate some trouble in paradise. Alternatively titled: **Din is incapable of dealing with his feelings and human emotions in general**.
> 
> Once again, thank you for everyone's kind responses <3

**Chapter 6 - Attached**

**Attached** ( _adjective_ ): emotionally connected; having strong feelings of affection. _Synonyms_ : affected, fond, inclined, partial. _Similar_ : fond of, full of regard for, affectionate towards, caring towards.

\- - - - -

Calican was annoying but easily dealt with. Arrogance never got you far, Din had learnt that very early on in his bounty hunting career. Nevertheless, the entire ordeal was a disaster and it drew too much attention to them. Not to mention, the gunshot wound he was nursing on his flank from Shand's blaster only made matters worse. 

The only saving grace from the whole clusterfuck of events was the fact that Nathan had stayed behind with the baby. It was nice to be able to keep the child out of harm's way (for the most part) with someone that he trusted. Because he did, in fact, trust the blond. Maybe more than he cared to admit. Or rather, more than he was accustomed to admitting.

Attachments were a sign of weakness. At least in this business. They were just leverage to be used against you, something that slowed you down and made you complacent, compassionate, soft. Things you just couldn't afford to be as a hunter.

He would be lying if he didn't admit that it was kind of... _nice_ , though. It was nice to have someone, something, to come back to. And he didn't mean just Nathan-- it was equally as nice to have the kid. Plus, as reluctant as he'd been to take on the job, he still felt invigorated by a new kind of purpose. He was doing it for them, as much as he was doing it for himself. To get the credits they needed, to fix their home, to keep them safe. Why did he do anything before? What was his purpose then? Just getting an endless stream of credits while travelling alone to some of the most desolate and grimy corners of the galaxy? That felt trivial in comparison to the stakes now.

It was risky, though. To be attached, to feel responsibility, to care. Just the way he'd felt when Calican had walked out with Nathan in his grip, threatening to hurt him, taunting Din... that was _dangerous_. It shocked him to know he actually did care so much. It had made him feel not only afraid, because the whereabouts of the child were an unknown to him at the time, but also _enraged_ \-- because Nathan himself had been frightened and it didn't sit right with him to see that, to feel responsible for it.

Still, there was no point dwelling on it now. He had to keep reminding himself to move on. They were all safe, his wound was healing and the ship was fine. Besides, he had a job that would pay well, give them some cushion to lay low for a while afterwards. He didn't trust a single person on the crew, but that was unavoidable.

He also hated the thought of leaving Nathan and the child on the ship with the droid (even in hiding as they were), but that too was unavoidable. It was just safer to leave them on the ship than to bring them along on the prison freighter. Safer than introducing them to his less than trustworthy companions as well.

And if he was being honest, he wasn't entirely keen on Nathan hearing some of the comments being made about him either. Not because of Xi'an, though. She might have embarrassed him but she was just talking shit. They'd never so much as touched, let alone done any of the things she was alluding to (not for lack of trying, on her part). The tales of his work with Ran, however, and that job on Alzoc III... he wanted to forget about those. Nathan didn't need to know. He wasn't that person anymore. He hadn't been for a long time. 

Overall, the entire job reeked of bad luck and abysmal odds. Yet again Nathan told him that he shouldn’t go, that he had a bad feeling about it. The advice was well received but it was too late to back out. It paid very handsomely and an abundance of credits was something they desperately needed in order to find any kind of long-term peace. It wasn't a choice, so he left.

He hugged the child a few more times, and urged them to stay hidden, and he left.

He didn’t feel good about it though.

\- - - - -

Din should have seen the betrayal coming a mile away and yet he didn't. His thoughts kept straying back to his ship, hoping that his two charges were still hiding successfully. Weak. Distracted. It nearly cost him his life (and probably theirs too). It made him unreasonably mad. Even after it was all over and he'd managed to turn everything around, got paid, and left with a small measure of justice served... he was still mad.

Mad at himself, at the job, at the whole universe. Everything about that entire nightmare left him with the worst headache of his life and a bitter, heavy weight in his chest. Too close. Just too damn close.

When the dust settled, he did feel a little pride over the fact that Nathan had been able to evade the droid long enough for him to return to the ship and kill it... but it didn't stop Din from snapping a rude response to a random question the blond asked him as they made their way into hyperspace afterwards. He doesn't even remember what the question was now-- or why it had angered him so much. It was probably nothing of note. Certainly nothing that warranted his reaction. 

His unforgivably cruel reply had created a rift between them.

It had somehow been three days since he'd seen the other man. He didn't think that was actually achievable in the small ship. It always seemed like it was impossible _not_ to run into each other (quite literally) even when you were trying not to. And yet... the only reason Din knew that Nathan was still on the ship was the life signature scanners on the cockpit that showed two other beings in the levels below. He could seek him out, he knew exactly where the man was at all times, but he was too stubborn for his own good. He just felt so inexplicably frustrated all the time.

The child was unhappy, that much was obvious. He seemed to yoyo every night between sleeping with him or sleeping with Nathan. He cried during meal times, which was when Din felt the shittiest. They had formed a routine when it came to meals. Nathan cooked, Din set the table. Then he held the baby in his lap, feeding him while the other man ate. Afterwards, Nathan would make himself scarce and Din could finally eat as well. Simple, and just one of the small ways they started fitting together effortlessly.

Now it was kind of hard to have a meal with someone who was actively avoiding you. And to add insult to injury, he missed Nathan's cooking.

They were just two grown men having a tantrum at this point, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize. Which, _yes_ , he knew that he should. But whenever he took the first hesitant steps to do so, an odd kind of bitterness stopped him.

How had he grown so attached to these two beings? This was uncharted territory for him. And he'd allowed that attachment to cloud his judgement and impair his skills-- which was disappointing, to say the least. But he felt so guilty about what he said too. He wished he could take it back, could just find the right words to say and the _courage_ to say them.

These were feelings he'd rather not face. And couldn't really even understand.

Why should he care so much? Because Nathan had been nothing but a considerate, helpful and nice travel companion to have? Because he'd most likely saved Din's life and even more recently, the child's? Because it was making the baby upset? He was dangerously close to admitting that he might, in fact, perhaps, most likely... _love_ the exasperating little swamp frog. And wasn't _that_ just a frightening thing to admit?

He was really not in any way equipped to handle any of these emotions. He'd spent so much of his life conditioning himself not to feel-- how was he supposed to handle feeling _so much_ all at once? 

Yes. Din was distantly aware that he was having some kind of mental breakdown. Maybe because of the three consecutive life-threatening circumstances they'd been through, all happening in such quick succession that he'd hardly had any time to recover from any of them. He knew that he was not, as one might say, _handling it well_.

And why could he not stop thinking about how soft the skin at the base of Nathan's neck was? Or how it felt to hold the solid, comforting, weight of the man against his chest? 

Cuddling with the child had rattled him enough already. Just the feeling of being close, of being needed, of sharing affection and warmth. It had felt so foreign to him at the start. He hadn't experienced a semblance of it since he was young and he found himself unexpectedly enjoying it.

Holding Nathan however… that was _something else_ entirely. Despite the perilous situation that had brought them together, the memory of how it felt still lingered in the back of his mind. He'd just-- never shared anything like that with another person, with another _adult._ Not under any circumstance, life-threatening or otherwise. It should embarrass him, but more than anything it was actually a shock how much it affected him.

He'd spent decades being completely okay without the knowledge of how it felt to share contact like that with another person. Now he constantly found himself thinking of the way it felt to brush his lips against the other man's skin, even just unintentionally.

Din just wanted to be able to methodically deal with his feelings like he'd always done. To catalogue and categorise them, before putting forth an appropriate response to each emotion. He wanted to function like a normal person again, and get rid of this irrational frustration and restlessness he was feeling.

\- - - - -

He was again silently sulking in the cockpit, as had become his habit lately, when he heard the noises of someone climbing up the ladder. 

"Are you decent?"

The question startled him and he couldn't make sense of it in the moment. 

"What?"

"I meant-- have you got your helmet on?"

Oh right, yes he did.

... It took him a bit to realise that Nathan couldn't very well see him nodding in the affirmative. 

"Yes-- yeah, I do. Sorry." 

He watched, anxiously, while the blond pulled himself up the rest of the way with a towel bundled under his arm.

"I know you wish you'd left me on Ran's cruiser so that I could be someone else's problem, but I need your help." 

That stung. But probably not half as much as it had hurt Nathan when he'd said those words to him. He really hadn't meant it, of course. Not even a little bit. He'd regretted it as soon as the words were done tumbling out of his mouth, couldn't even understand why he'd ever said them.

He wanted to say as much but the apology, as always, seemed stuck at the base of his throat. 

"Sure," he replied instead. "What do you need?" 

Never once glancing his way, the blond placed the towel he was carrying on the console and pulled a comb and a pair of neatly polished and sharpened scissors from his pocket (no doubt one of the many small things he'd fixed up since living onboard the ship).

"I need a haircut. If you don't mind... could you just help me trim the back? Shouldn't take long." 

Out of all possible requests he expected Nathan to level at him, this didn't even make his _Not Likely_ list. He wanted a haircut. Just-- a haircut. Okay? Din could do that. He'd been cutting his own hair for years now.

And the blond did actually need a good trim, if he was being honest.

Unfortunately, his stunned silence had drawn on too long and Nathan shuffled, uncomfortable.

"I just-- I have no spatial awareness. I think I can manage to do the front but I'm bound to chop off a chunk if I try to do the back." 

"It's fine," he finally rushed to answer. "I can do all of it. If you want?"

All he got in response was a brief nod, but he supposed that was permission enough. He could appreciate that he was being given a chance to, at least partially, redeem himself for what he'd done. Din was thankful for it.

He waited patiently while Nathan wrapped the towel over his shoulders and pulled a nearby crate towards himself to sit down. It was _tense_ in the cockpit, that was the best way to describe it. Deathly silent except for the whirring of the ship's functions all around them. He almost felt afraid to make any loud noises and took his time just removing his gloves, carefully picking up the scissors. 

Nathan's hair was soft and still damp from the shower he must have taken just before. It wasn't overly long but it was starting to look a bit unruly. Din was no expert, not by a long stretch, but he was well used to trimming his own ends.

Not that it made much of a difference for him. His curly hair always looked _a bit unruly_ , regardless of what he did.

It was surprisingly easy to focus on the task, once he applied himself to it. As the silence between them wore on, he relaxed for the first time in what felt like too long. All throughout, he made sure to catalogue every detail that caught his attention, like the fact that Nathan's eyes were closed, once he spun him around to work on the front, long lashes fanning out over his cheeks. He'd shaved since coming onboard and even though they were the same age, looking at him now, it seemed like the blond was much younger. Just softer, fairer. More delicate, maybe. _Beautiful_ , objectively speaking.

"What do you feel like for dinner?"

The question pulled Din out of his reverie and suddenly he found himself staring at the unusual greyish blue tint of the blond's eyes.

 _Oh_. "Just-- I don't know. I'll take anything." 

"I was thinking I could scrap some things together for a stew." 

Of course he was. Nathan had a seemingly endless list of recipe ideas, regardless of the quality of the ingredients available to him. 

"That sounds nice." He didn't mean to come across as awkward, but he was fairly certain that he did. "Nathan, I-- I wanted to say--"

"I know." 

"No. I don't think you do. It's just--" 

"Mando. I know." 

He really wanted to take the easy way out and just leave it be, but he couldn't. He needed to get the words out.

"I just didn't mean it, Nathan. I really didn't. I'm sorry." 

"Like I said, I know. And I'm-- I'm sorry too. I should have reacted be--" 

"It's Din."

"--eeetter. What?!"

Well. He could hardly take it back now.

"My _name_. It's Din. Din Djarin." 

"Oh. Right. Well."

It was very hard to decipher the way Nathan was looking at him. Din couldn't hope to discern what the revelation meant to the blond... and it took a moment of uncertain staring before Nathan spoke again.

"Kahler. That's my last name. Just-- you know, to even the playing field. _Nathaniel_ Kahler."

It was a nice name. It suited him. "... Noted. Thanks."

"You're welcome, _Din_." There was nothing but mischief in Nathan's eyes now. "Wanna finish cutting my hair? I'm hungry." 

Right, yes, the task at hand.

He did finish. Quickly and efficiently. Nathan seemed relaxed throughout and he was pleased with the end result-- which was just the cherry on top.

Din was pleased too. It felt like a literal huge weight had been lifted off his chest.

\- - - - -

Later that night, dinner was one of the best they'd had since Nathan had started travelling with him. It was almost like the blond had been stockpiling flavourful ingredients for the last couple of days. Hoping to eventually cook them a special reconciliation dinner.

The child was contagiously happy. It was peaceful and domestic and exactly the kind of calm he'd been craving for weeks now. He only wished they could keep carrying this feeling with them for a long while to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I laid out any number of scenarios to bring them closer and I ended up going with "Nathan needs a haircut and Din's gonna think his hair is super soft and nice and also he's really beautiful, huh?"
> 
> I'm sorry lol.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din lets Nathan polish his armour and it has unexpected consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're?? diving head first?? into "hand kink" territory?? so I'm sorry.

**Chapter 7 - Bored**

**Bored** ( _adjective_ ): feeling weary and impatient because one is unoccupied or lacks interest in one's current activity.

\- - - -

Din was studying a star map when a question cut through the quiet.

“What colour is your hair?”

“Hm?”

“Your hair. What colour is it?”

Intrigued by the random line of questioning, he finally looked up to find Nathan casually leaning on the console, balancing the child with one arm and eating a piece of fruit with the other.

“Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering. Is that-- are you not allowed to talk about your appearance?”

It surprised him to realise that he didn’t actually know the answer to that.

“I’m not sure. No one’s ever genuinely asked me before. I’ve never considered it.”

“Well…” the blond drew closer, gently putting the child down in front of Din and conveniently over the map he’d been inspecting. “I’m asking now.”

The little gremlin, of course, wasted no time pressing any number of buttons and flicking every available switch within range.

“Stop that,” he muttered, before giving up and just taking him into his arms.

Nathan simply watched the exchange, looking altogether too smug about sabotaging his previous work. The purpose of his question still wasn’t clear, but Din figured there was no harm in answering. Although perhaps not in great detail.

“It's dark."

"Dark, okay. And your eyes?"

"Also dark."

"Do you have any scars?"

"A lot."

"Do you have a full beard?"

"Why are you asking me all this?"

"Jus--"

"Don't say, just wondering."

"Well I am _just wondering_."

The child was watching their conversation with what seemed to be interest. Big eyes were bouncing between them, following the direction of the replies.

"Are you bored?" He asked, trying and failing to hide the amusement in his tone.

" _No_. Am I bothering you?"

"A little. I was trying to pick a port that would be safe for us to land in, you know."

"Okay, _fine_. Message received, I'll leave you be. Give me the kid. At least he always wants to play with me."

"So you _are_ bored then?"

He watched, honestly charmed, while Nathan sulked his way out of the cockpit, huffing like a scolded child. He didn't get a response, but he could picture the scowl on Nathan's face as he descended the ladder. That was enough for him.

Truthfully, it was taking longer than he’d hoped to find them somewhere to seek refuge for a while. They'd struck out on two planets already and even though there was no shortage of Outer Rim dumps that were under the radar, there wasn't an overabundance of them that were actually habitable. Or suitable for a child.

Nathan was bored, the kid was bored, Din was feeling the pressure to fix their present situation. Not that he was being 'pressured', per say. He wasn't at all. Nathan was supportive, understanding. Despite being visibly bored, he made every effort to reassure Din that he was at least happy and comfortable.

Din was happy too, really. They were being conservative with their credits but by no means frugal. In one of their brief stays on a desert planet that didn't merit naming, they'd actually traded the Beskar bar that the blond still had for even more credits and some supplies. Granted, he did have to actually argue with Nathan for it, but it paid off nicely. For some reason, the blond seemed to care even more than him about giving away the iron. Din cared, he very much did, but trading it in was the right thing to do. There were three mouths to feed on the ship and it needed a decent amount of fuel to keep niceties like the heating running.

Ultimately, even though there was no immediate need to find somewhere to set up camp, Din still wanted a better quality of life, for all of them. At the very least, something better than having to live in a small ship in the dead of space. Some place where Nathan wouldn’t have to sleep on the ground over a thin mattress.

\- - - - -

Within a few days, he’d charted a hesitant course towards Felucia and they were already on their way. As far as he knew, it had been liberated from the Empire but left devastated by the Wars. Since it was no longer an export hub, it had fallen off the grid. Basically, it had potential.

Meanwhile, boredom was doing wonders for the interior of his ship. Din found himself spending hours just stargazing with the child on his chest sleeping, or playing with his hands, or simply staring out into the void with him. Nathan, in contrast, was a busy bee during that same time. He was a fountain of energy and he had an unrivalled talent for finding ways to expend it. The ship had never been so clean, so tidy, so child-proof.

At least they’d reached the unspoken agreement that the observatory corner, with its big floor to ceiling window and the old hammock that he’d managed to fit into the small space, was a place where Din could take off his helmet and the blond wouldn’t come barging in unannounced. It was nice. He’d never appreciated that nook on his ship so much before.

Honestly, coexisting with his two unexpected travel companions was growing easier by the day. The child was-- well, just as you'd expect a child to be. Endlessly entertaining, generous with his simple and comforting affection. Far more perceptive than his innocent appearance let on. It was heart-warming, in a sense, to see him so comfortable around Nathan too. So happy. One could only guess what kind of treatment the kid had received before he landed under their care. He’d wager it hadn’t been kind.

Although Din was still somewhat reluctant to admit it, he very much adored the little green terror and he was furtively ignoring any thoughts of how to proceed in the long-term. Thoughts like: should he try to find the kid’s family, or his people? Was he alone in the universe? Would he be hunted forever? How long would he live for? What even was his name? Difficult questions to ask and probably equally as difficult answers to accept.

The kid was getting stronger too, it seemed. Or perhaps just gaining a little more control over his abilities. It wasn’t unusual for Din to walk into a room and find many of its contents floating around. A few days prior, Nathan was descending the cockpit ladder when he missed a step-- one second he was sliding down, the next he was suspended mid-air, before slowly landing on his feet. The kid babbled incoherently afterwards and went back to playing as if nothing had happened. It was fascinating, to say the least.

For his part, Nathan was just as pleasant to live with too. Almost equally as fascinating even, in a host of different ways. Maybe Din had spent too much of his life around people in helmets, devoid of feeling and accustomed to keeping everything private. To see such unguarded and unapologetic displays of emotion, both good and bad, was very interesting.

'Captivating' was another way to describe it, really. As much as he liked to stargaze, he found himself similarly entertained just watching the blond flit around the ship, fixing things, tidying up, playing hide and seek or peekaboo with the kid. Even just cooking.

Presently, he was watching his armour being polished. It took a whole lot of nagging, but finally Din relented to taking it off. He was still very unaccustomed to the vulnerability that came with stripping off the Beskar. It left him feeling naked. Truth was, sometimes the armour felt like it was an emotional barrier, an unseen shield that enveloped all of him, as much as it was a physical, solid cover that had saved his life countless times.

As it turned out, Nathan was well aware that it was part of the Mandalorian creed to wear armour, to value it and respect it. By then, they’d already spoken about the blond’s childhood interest in Mandalorian tales. If Din was being honest, the stories of Nathan running around wearing an old rusted bucket on his head had been equal parts endearing and humbling. 

Curiously, even though Nathan _claimed_ that his fascination had long faded… Din actually remained unconvinced. After all, if you didn’t know any better, you’d assume that the blond was looking at a load of refined Coaxium, or a pot full of Kyber Crystals, for how much Din’s armour seemed to enthral him. And he handled the Beskar pieces with such care, you’d be surprised to find that he wasn’t holding the finest porcelain in the Galaxy.

This… was captivating to watch as well. He was very methodical, practised hands never faltering. He caressed the metal with the same kind of tenderness that he used to run his fingers over the child’s ears. Nathan had very telling hands actually, which was perhaps an odd observation to make. Nevertheless, it seemed like Din could always discern how the man was feeling just from watching them and where they strayed to.

For example: when he was pleasantly lost in thought, Nathan would distractedly run the thumb and forefinger of his right hand over the lobe of his ear. He also hadn’t yet lost the habit of stroking his chin if he was puzzling over a problem instead, even though he’d long since shaved off the layer of scruff he was evidently so used to scratching. If he was nervous, he would drum the fingers of his left hand in the same distinct pattern on the nearest available surface, be it against his thigh or a table. He cracked his knuckles when he was annoyed but trying to conceal it. He held his right hand over his chest, thumb lightly caressing the area just above his heart, when he was sad or otherwise weighed down by some unpleasant thought. He always covered his mouth when genuine laughter or a smile came to him, almost like he was used to concealing happiness. And even though Din hadn’t witnessed it often, he knew both his hands trembled uncontrollably when Nathan was frightened or in pain.

Finally, if he truly enjoyed what he was doing, Nathan would take the time to appreciate every action, handle every item like a treasure. The tactile feedback seemed very important to him. You could just see it in the way he would feel every grain of spice between his fingers, smooth every crease on the bed sheets, scrub clean every remnant of engine oil, sand down every coarse edge. In short, if he paid attention to the details, if he took his time with a task, completing it with sure and steady hands, then his heart was wholly invested in it. In contrast, Din had witnessed plenty of things that were rushed, not quite impeccable, left unfinished, or never even attempted-- which was fine. It just meant those things had felt like chores to the blond and he was, after all, free to do (or not do) whatever he wanted.

Maybe these were inconsequential observations. Maybe everyone behaved in similar ways. Or maybe he was just reading too much into everything. Again, Din was not used to sharing his space with someone who wasn’t like him, measured and calculated, closed off and private. After all, until they’d started living together, Din had never even seen so much skin so freely displayed. Nathan cut half the sleeves off a handful of his shirts and he didn’t have any issues walking around shirtless when they were docked in planets with hotter climates, or simply when he didn’t want to stain his clothes while working on something.

And his hands. Those were always uncovered and it was always what Din’s eyes invariably strayed towards. Although, truth be told, that was in part because he was making a genuine effort not to look at Nathan’s eyes instead. Or his lips. His neck. The expanse of shoulders he’d sometimes get a glimpse of.

It was needless to say that their collective boredom, in the end, had also resulted in Din spending quite a few days pondering over these things. Mulling over his observations and making sense of his thoughts about them. Reflecting on all the ways they were two very different men.

His current line of thinking centred around the fact that they had contrasting skin tones. Din had a darker shade to his skin, even absent the touch of any sun, and Nathan was fair and altogether just seemed… _softer_. He’d yet to spot any kind of scar marring any of the skin that had been revealed to him thus far. He wanted to hold out his arm, pull the sleeve up, and compare it with Nathan’s presently uncovered one. But he didn’t.

“Are you falling asleep over there?”

Just how long had he been staring for?

“No, I’m awake. Sorry.”

“Okay. Couldn’t tell if you were still breathing. Just thought I should check.”

Witty, as expected. Although if he was being honest, he had found himself enjoying their banter over time. It was refreshing. And that was saying something for someone like Din, who had always preferred actions over words.

“That’s very kind of you.”

His sarcasm, thankfully, was clearly conveyed, even over the voice modulation in the helmet. Predictably, a hand came up to cover the blond’s answering smile before he replied, equally as sarcastic.

“You’re always welcome.”

To be fair, he couldn’t very well judge Nathan’s habit of covering up. After all, his own helmet afforded him a measure of privacy that other people couldn’t rely on. All his smiles were covered so Nathan didn’t see the one that escaped him before he continued their conversation.

“Hm. I was just-- watching.” Technically the truth.

“Don’t trust me with your armour?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“What does _that_ mean? Also, can I fix the sewing on this strap?”

Yeah, what did that mean? Why, out of all the possible replies, did he say _that_?

The blond held up one of the fastenings attached to the heavy cuirass. Din had also already noticed that the stitching around one of the clips had begun to fray. It gave him the excuse he needed to avoid the question. He only replied a quick, "sure", before getting up to fetch the sewing kit. By the time he returned and dropped the materials on the table, Nathan didn’t press the topic after muttering a quick, "thank you".

He sat back down slowly, mindful of the bandage on his flank that he didn’t want to displace, gritting his teeth against the sting that accompanied most of his movements nowadays. The wound from Shand's (very lucky) blaster shot was still healing and if anything, the process seemed to have slowed somewhat. She used nasty corrosive ammunition. It had burnt the surrounding skin, just as much as it had cut through at the point of impact. It wasn’t a particularly deep or large wound, just awkwardly placed over his lower ribs. Even breathing would push and pull at the edges of it. Not to mention, all the action on the New Republic prison freighter with Ran’s band of thugs hadn’t necessarily done him any favours.

Ever so astute, Nathan looked up from his work.

“Are you alright?”

It still surprised Din how sincere these kinds of questions were. Just the thought that someone actually cared about the answer, that someone was invested in receiving a positive response. It wasn’t just a platitude, it was a truly genuine enquiry.

“Fine.” Not entirely true. “Probably just need to change the bandage.”

“Why don’t you let the kid have a go at it? I’m sure he’d work his magic and make it go away.”

“You know it’s not magic.”

“Yes, Din, I do. Why haven’t you showed him?”

“Because that’s not what he’s here for. And it tires him out, it drains him. You were _dying_. I have a scratch that will go away in time. There’s no need.”

“I know you’re walking around with more than just a scratch. I washed the shirt you were wearing. Three times actually. Before I got all the blood out. I patched up the hole that was left in it too.”

“Your point being?”

Din knew he was playing into a conversation that he should be leaving well enough alone. He watched, not surprised, while Nathan started absentmindedly pushing and pulling on his fingers, drawing out subtle cracks and pops from the joints. It was always rather unsettling to see the blond growing visibly upset.

“My point? My _point_ , Din, is that I don’t particularly want to be stuck on a ship that I can’t navigate because you died of sepsis or something.”

“I’m not dying.”

“Can I at least look at it?”

Well, there it was. Precisely what Din had been trying to avoid. He couldn’t hide the sigh that escaped him and Nathan actually rolled his eyes at him.

“I just want to look.”

“Why?”

“You said it was corrosive ammunition. I'm curious.”

“No.”

“Din--”

“I said _no_.”

With consistently impeccable timing, the child wandered into the room chirping softly to announce his arrival. Curious eyes watched them while he simply stood by the door, as if he was trying to decide which of the men to approach. Din, in the fold out chair. Or Nathan, sitting at the dining table with all his tools scattered about.

After a few tense moments, he just left. He didn’t even move any further into the room at all, simply turned back around and unceremoniously exited the galley. Was it because they were arguing? Din was honestly sure the kid had some kind of empathic ability. There were so many coincidences stacking up around them. This was just another one of those.

Nathan’s surprised huff of laughter drew his attention back.

“Looks like he didn’t want to put up with your nonsense.”

He should have perhaps felt a little more insulted, but he was still reeling from the kid’s dismissive departure from the room.

“My nonsense?”

“Yes. Your insecure nonsense.”

“I’m not-- what? What does that even mean?”

“Well for one, I’d wager that no one-- who wasn’t a medic-- has seen you without your shirt on in years.”

“In decades actually.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of it. Just to see what Nathan would make of them. “Not since I lost my parents.”

To his credit, the blond seemed to take it in stride. His expression stayed fairly neutral, but he did start soundlessly tapping a familiar nervous beat with his fingers on the tabletop.

“Look-- I know it's not 'nonsense' and I get it. It’s the same reason it took so much nagging just to get you out of your armour. We both know it had nothing to do with your _tradition_. But do you even realise that I’m insecure every time we’re in a room together? You have _no idea_ the kind of presence you hold wherever you go, the attention that you command. It’s not the armour, Din, it's _you_. Believe me, I watched you for years at that cantina, well before you ever had this much Beskar on you. Why would you even deign to feel insecure around me? Around _anyone_. What am I going to do? Look inadequate and small next to you?”

He tried to interject, but the words were trapped on the tip of his tongue and Nathan continued steamrolling forward, entirely undeterred.

“Whether we like it or not, we’re going to be stuck together for the foreseeable future. If it isn’t clear enough already-- I am in constant awe of you. That’s not going to change just because you don’t have armour on. Or because you got yourself a nasty ' _scratch'_ that needs some taking care of. I know this has bothered you ever since I stepped foot on this ship. You’re not used to having someone observe you when you’re not playing the part of the Mandalorian bounty hunter, when you’re just being yourself. And honestly-- I don’t get why you seem to think that 'just being yourself' is any less impressive. I’m not the kid, in case that wasn't obvious. He looks at you like you hung every star in the universe, which is something I hope you’re aware of. But me? I have a much more _realistic_ view of who and what you are. And realistic expectations. So if you want, you never have to take your armour off in front of me again. For now, I just want to look at your wound, Din. Just trust me for a few moments. That’s all. I won’t think differently of you afterwards. I promise.”

Well, what could you even say in response to that? How exactly was he supposed to feel? Because truthfully, he was a little stunned, and… he felt uncovered, dismantled. Like Nathan had just taken him apart and pulled out everything of note, everything that he was feeling but hadn’t acknowledged or made sense of yet.

He settled on a simple reply. Less chance of saying something he would regret, or something that could be misconstrued. He wasn’t, let’s face it, the best at expressing his feelings. Which Nathan was probably well aware of anyway.

“I do trust you.”

“Yeah, I know. But trust me with _this_.”

He did. Din actually did. Nathan never spoke of the incident with the hypothermia. He’d quite literally saved Din’s life and hadn’t gloated or otherwise alluded to his efforts even once. There would be nothing but compassion if he let the blond care for his wound. He knew this. But perhaps… well, perhaps insecurity was just the thing holding him back.

Not confident that he could speak his thoughts into existence and falling back on his old habit of favouring actions over words, he stood, calmly pushing aside the folded chair to clear his path towards the table. Nathan watched him in silence, maybe waiting to see if he was going to leave or if he was coming closer. When he approached the table, the blond still had the same anxious look on his face, as if now he was simply expecting Din to gather his armour and _then_ leave the room.

He didn’t, though. He just shuffled closer and lifted his shirt up to his chest. And waited.

Just like that, someone other than a medic was now looking at his abdomen. Unarmoured, uncovered, except for the bandage that Nathan pulled off soon enough anyway. Din didn’t understand why his heart felt so frantic in his chest. Or why he was suddenly holding his breath. Nathan’s fingers were surprisingly warm and light. Soft, barely a whisper on his skin, but they burnt like a brand over every millimetre that they touched.

“Hey... _breathe_."

The words seemed to thaw out the tension in his muscles, bring him back to the present and ground him. In fact, he'd loosened the vice-like grip he had on his shirt by the time Nathan spoke again, finished with his inspection of the damage.

"Relax for a bit, I’m going to get the first aid kit.” He was halfway to the door before he stopped and spun around, looking anxious again. “Don’t-- don’t change your mind. Please. It’s fine. We’re fine. I promise.”

He didn’t wait for a response before he took off again. Din wasn’t known for backing down and he wasn’t going to start then, so the pep talk wasn't entirely necessary. He relaxed, just as he was instructed to do, and when Nathan returned with the kit he lifted his shirt up with considerably more ease than the first time. He didn’t even hold his breath again while the wound was cleaned and re-bandaged.

In the end, Nathan was every bit as efficient, considerate, and careful as Din knew he could trust him to be. He finished as calmly as he started, with single-minded focus.

All he had to say afterwards was a simple, “let’s clear this table. I’m hungry.”

\- - - - -

They were a day away from Felucia when he received the coded message. Prior to its timely arrival, he’d been considering the Unknown Regions as a possibility for their next destination. Just in case this planet didn’t work out. It would be a monumental risk, and not only because it was some seriously difficult space to navigate.

The message, obviously, changed everything. Din was more than happy to be spared from making a decision either way when Vizla’s words appeared decrypted on his data pad.

They'd just received coordinates to the covert’s new location. And an invitation to join them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's feelings o'clock on the Razor Crest. I would like to apologise to Din for putting him through that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are thwarted in favour of taking a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... apologies if you were expecting covert shenanigans in this chapter. that's all I'll say. 
> 
> thank you, as ever, for your support <3

**Chapter 8 - Chance**

**Chance** ( _noun_ ): a possibility of something happening. _Similar_ : opportunity, prospect.

\- - - - -

Out of all the places Din thought they might find refuge, the forest moon of Endor was certainly not one of them, and the fact that he was reuniting with his Covert was equally as unexpected. It finally felt like they might be heading towards some kind of peace and stability… which of course meant they were overdue for some mayhem as well.

They were just hours away when he received Karga's message and the promise of a clean slate was far too tempting to simply disregard it. It wasn't a decision made lightly, but Nathan agreed wholeheartedly with him. If there was even the slightest chance that they could put an end to the child's persecution and square away the bounty placed on all of them, then the risk was worth it and they had to at least try. So, with a heavy heart, he steered them back towards Sorgan and then onwards to Arvala-7.

Thankfully, Cara was still exactly where they'd left her and Kuiil accepted his request to go with them too. Din was less thankful for the droid and the blurggs, particularly because the beasts took up so much of the cargo bay, but he was in no position to argue when they were being offered such generous help. Nathan did have to temporarily move into his room and sleep on the floor (in lieu of being trampled on during the night), but at least he didn't seem to mind it too much.

The hyperspeed rush to Nevarro that followed was, predictably, an uncomfortable experience in the overcrowded ship. The child barely left his room, especially after the unfortunate incident with Cara and the arm wrestling. He tried his best to comfort the kid later that night, but he couldn't be sure how successful he was. It was perhaps the first time he'd seen him earnestly sulk for more than just a couple of hours. Not even Nathan's peekaboo efforts seemed to help, but a good snuggle on the blond's chest did put him to sleep rather quickly.

Once they arrived, tensions were high, to say the least, as they prepared to leave the ship. Din couldn't be sure how any of it was going to play out once they set off, but he knew that all he genuinely cared about, regardless of anything else that might happen, was keeping both Nathan and the child alive.

This was perhaps the only real chance he would ever get to earn redemption for accepting the bounty and he was not going to waste it.

\- - - - -

To think that they went on to survive everything that was thrown at them upon their arrival… it was even more surreal than all the circumstances that had brought them together to begin with.

When it was all said and done, hours seemed to have eclipsed in seconds. There were some things that he'd be unlikely to ever forget, moments like descending into the sewers and finding them empty and devoid of any traces of what was once his people's home. He knew they had moved on and rebuilt elsewhere, but it was still deeply confronting to see.

And losing Kuiil-- well, that plagued him most of all. Crushing grief was shared amongst all of them. Din could only hope that the Ugnaught's sacrifice hadn't been for nothing, that the peace they'd secured for themselves would grow stronger and surer over time.

Truthfully, so much had happened within the handful of days since receiving Karga's message, he hadn't really taken the time to process the repercussions of everything that they'd done. He hadn’t considered what it really meant to have the weight of being hunted lifted off their backs, to be welcomed back into the guild, and to have driven the Imperial remnants out of Nevarro for good.

In fact, Din was only then realising that they hadn't just returned to Nathan's home, but also made it safe for him to stay. They weren't really stuck together anymore and the blond was free to go back to the life he had before Din had come along and put an axe through it.

The truth of it crashed into him like a freighter, sad and unexpected, while he was loading the ship with supplies. It was becoming increasingly clear that there was every chance Nathan would come back from his trip to the market, hand over the child and the groceries, and then tell Din that this was where their journey ended. If he was truly lucky, though, he’d at least get another hug, and this time he wouldn't be too stunned to return it in kind. Because yes, make no mistake, that was definitely a memory that replayed in his mind over and over again, catching up with the group in the sewers after IG-11 had saved him and nearly being tackled to the ground in a frantic embrace from Nathan.

For Din, telling everyone to go ahead without him had been an exceptionally hard decision to make. Receiving that hug afterwards, well... it gave him the sense that it had been equally as hard for the blond leave him behind. In fact, even though events had ultimately turned in his favour, he was still grateful that Cara had forcibly shoved Nathan through the grate and out of sight. It hadn’t seemed like the blond would have left otherwise and at the time, Din genuinely thought that he was nearing the end of his line.

It took a moment like that, like staring death in the face and being certain of its arrival, to make Din reach a conclusion that perhaps should have been obvious all along: if you have something you want to say, but the weight of it holds you back... just do it anyway. Say what you have to, because the chance to do so can be taken away in seconds, and you’ll get to that last moment (or what you think is your last moment) and you’ll want nothing more than the opportunity to go back and speak those thoughts into existence after all.

He’d had a grasp on what he wanted to say, but he’d been so affected by the wound in his neck that he couldn't actually form the sentences needed. He'd only watched, helplessly, while Nathan desperately held on to his gloved hands before Cara pulled him away. If he'd been able to, though, Din would've said that he was so very glad to have met him. He would have told Nathan that he didn’t think he could ever look ‘inadequate’ or ‘small’, least of all next to Din. And he would have admitted that he wished they’d had more time together. He'd always believed that before dying he’d see his life flash before his eyes, consumed with thoughts of all his mistakes and regrets, but instead-- he’d just seen a clear vision of them, older, years down the track, living happily with the child. And then he realised that was all he wanted, so he would have said that to Nathan too.

Yes, there was nothing quite like the promise of certain death to put things in perspective for you, but despite the lesson he genuinely thought he’d learnt in that moment about not wasting your chances to speak-- he still hadn’t said any of it and in typical hypocritical fashion, he was thinking he might not say anything after all. It really was a _considerable_ weight that was holding him back and it felt insurmountable once all the adrenaline drained from his system.

In any case, he’d wasted his best opportunity, really, that hug. Not only had it been a chance to say something, anything at all, but it had also been the perfect time to convey what he felt with his actions instead. If he’d just reacted fast enough, he could have hugged back, he could have held onto Nathan with the same kind of longing that he’d felt watching him leave. But of course he didn’t. He’d let Nathan damn near suffocate him in the embrace, muttering panic-stricken words about Din being okay, about him not leaving again, and he’d been too stunned to reciprocate.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Din looked over to see the blond approach.

"We're back! Give me a hand please."

He put down the things he was carrying to grab the groceries, really underestimating the weight of the load. When he struggled with getting a good handle on the bags, Nathan huffed out a laugh.

"Are you sure you're alright? I still think you should see a medic."

"Stop fretting, I'm fine."

Although, honestly, had the blond emptied every stall at the market?! It seemed like he'd bought enough foodstuffs to last for months, if the weight of the bags was anything to go by.

"I just want to make sure you didn't lose any brain cells, old man. They were already in short supply."

Din did want to get the inevitable farewell over and done with quickly, but the bags really were quite heavy, and the banter-- well, he just wanted to savour it one last time.

"We're the same age."

"Technically, we established that you're a few months older."

"You're being fastidious."

"Oh yes, I do like it when you use _big_ words."

"Now you're just being _contemptible_ , Nathan."

"Fine. So… where to from here? Are we setting course back to Endor?"'

 _We?_ Hope ignited every nerve ending in his body.

"You don't-- you wouldn't prefer to stay?"

"Well, I thought you wanted to reunite with the covert. Don't you?"

"No, I meant-- _you_ can stay here now. You can go home."

Silence dragged on for an uncomfortable amount of time. Nathan was entirely still, not a single muscle even twitched and it was so unsettling to see. When he finally replied, his voice sounded distant and strained.

"Is that-- what you want me to do? Because if it is, then I will."

Right. If there was ever a chance that Din could absolutely not afford to waste, this truly seemed to be it. Assuming, of course, that he wasn't misinterpreting the tone and meaning behind the blond's response. And he really, really hoped that he wasn't.

"No. I want you to come with us. I-- want you to stay with me."

It was the right thing to say, apparently, but-- _wow_ , would hugs always feel so overwhelming? Maybe Din was just very unaccustomed to them, to physical intimacy as a whole. When Nathan stepped forward to engulf him in another embrace, it sort of felt like his brain short-circuited. For a moment there, he was at risk of losing another opportunity to return the hug if he didn't pull himself together in time.

Mind you, he didn't account for the fact that the child was strapped to the blond's back in his little carrier. Any attempts to pull the man closer and embrace him tightly were actually rather unsuccessful, seeing as he didn't very well want to crush the kid in the process. Din was left scrambling for a strong hold that wouldn't be inappropriate and Nathan actually burst out laughing at his feeble struggles. He felt the need to apologize, for some reason, but the words were just waved away and Nathan tried to reassure him instead.

"It's okay, it's the effort that counts."

Except Din didn't feel like it was _okay_. He really wanted to be able to hold Nathan without the threat of imminent death, at least for a few seconds. Regrettably, another chance had passed.

They finished packing the ship, said their final goodbyes to Cara and Karga, and set a slow leisurely course towards Endor again.

\- - - - - -

"Just remember, you have to be firm with him."

"I still don't think this is necessary."

"Din. He's 50 years old. It's necessary."

"That's not entirely fair. He's still just a baby."

"Yes, I know, but it's time."

They'd been having the same argument back and forth for weeks, pretty much since they'd first left Sorgan. It was simple: should they start discouraging the baby from sleeping in bed with either of them?

Din could appreciate that in _theory_ , it was the right thing to do, but in _practice_ … well, he didn't see them succeeding at all. Not when the child could bypass any lock and climb or descend any surface at will.

Nevertheless, they built the kid a crib and then sacrificed Nathan's thin mattress for the cause as well. The blond patched and sewed his way into making a smaller and softer cushion, to go along with the new metal frame that Din had soldered together from scrap. A decent number of their nicest blankets were donated for the crib too, as well as some stuffed toys that Nathan had sewed together using old tattered sheets.

In short, they were less than a week away from Endor and they were finally ready to try the new sleeping arrangement. His faith was lacking, to say the least.

"It will work, Din."

Sure, except Nathan sounded like he was reassuring himself more than he was trying to convince him. Not to mention-- "that's easy for you to say when he's not in your room."

"Yeah, well, I don't have a room. But we can set it up next to my bed, if you really want."

He didn't. If it _needed_ to happen, then he felt that it should happen in his quarters. It should be him taking on the task of disciplining the little gremlin.

"It's fine. I'm tired, let's just get on with it."

Pleased with the response, Nathan pressed a quick kiss to the child's forehead, stopping to give Din an encouraging sort of nod, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Finally alone, he removed his helmet and tucked the baby into the crib after sharing a small hug, just for a few moments. “Please don’t make this hard,” he pleaded, “just go to sleep, kiddo.”

As usual, all he got in return were some nonsensical chirps and gurgles. Within 5 minutes of turning off the lights and getting into bed, he could hear a rattle and feel a light thud at the base of his cot… right before big pointy ears and small hands, started unapologetically crowding into his personal space.

Din’s answering sigh was bone-deep. To say that it was a long night that followed, is an understatement.

To begin with, he had to get up and place the child back in the crib six times. By the third time, the kid had started crying, but after the sixth-- well, it seemed like he was finally going to stay in his crib and go to sleep. So much so that Din himself started dozing off after a few minutes of uninterrupted rest. Naturally, he woke up 10, maybe 15, minutes later to Nathan’s voice outside his room, out of line of sight, because the door was open and Din was obviously not wearing the helmet.

Astonishingly, the kid had climbed out, unlocked the door, and gone tottering all the way to the cargo bay to join Nathan on his mess of blankets instead. The change of tactics would have been impressive if it hadn't also left Din completely unguarded in his room. He could only hope that Nathan had the forethought to stop where he was hiding then... instead of first walking in before realising, too late, that his face was uncovered. He didn't muster the courage to ask, so he'd never know.

That wasn't the end of it, though. After making sure it was safe to enter, Nathan tucked the child in again and they'd both just stared at the gremlin for a while. Honestly, the kid had a pout and a 'puppy stare' that could surely bring down whole empires. By then, Din was more than ready to just give in and snuggle, but Nathan’s heart was a little sturdier than his apparently. The blond set up his blankets on the ground next to his cot, to discourage another cross-ship misadventure, and they both settled down to sleep again. It was never pleasant to do it with his helmet on, but that too was another deterrent to the kid's snuggles.

It had taken five more tries before the little terror stayed in his crib that night-- whether out of exhaustion, or because he finally got the message... they’re not sure. The following night, he still woke up Din three times and Nathan once, before settling down.

That had been it though, thankfully. On the third night, he didn't leave his crib once and both men finally got a whole night’s worth of sleep. On the fourth night, Nathan had gone back to sleeping in the cargo bay without incident as well.

Thus, the whole ordeal was finally put to rest. No pun intended.

And yes-- perhaps Din started cuddling the child more often throughout the day. Holding him in increasingly long hugs before tucking him in for bed. He only did it to make sure the kid knew that the new arrangements weren’t _personal_ and that... Din still loved him. Very much.

Besides, Nathan had become a lot more affectionate towards the swamp frog during the day too. So who else was going to judge him for it? No one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh... they might even kiss in the next chapter. just you watch.
> 
> also, now that I'm done with the show's timeline, there *will* be covert shenanigans. and relationship building. promise. the story is coming full circle. 
> 
> also also - listen... i don't care what happened in the last few seconds of the episode. in *my* universe, Gideon is dead. they're safe. please. I need peace of mind to write fluff and smut.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din hopes that they've found a home, but Nathan's insecurities threaten to weigh them down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing this: *takes grand liberties with Mandalorian traditions* yeah that works.
> 
> welcome to another chapter where I bend many rules just so these two idiots can get together. and the baby is also featured, just being cute as per usual. I'm also not sure how this chapter turned out so long. my bad. 
> 
> once again, many thanks for all the support <3

**Chapter 9 - Home**

**Home** ( _noun_ ): the place where one lives, especially as a member of a family or household.

\- - - - -

Din was in trouble.

There was just no point in pretending that his feelings towards Nathan hadn't crossed a line that, quite frankly, he'd never been on the other side of. Not to mention, _crossed the line_ was actually an understatement. Realistically he’d all but obliterated the line on Nevarro, at some point between almost dying and Nathan's decision to stay together despite having the opportunity to return to the place he'd once called home. 

It was like a dam broke open that day and all the feelings spilled forward, stronger and faster than a tidal wave. The way those emotions swirled around in his mind was unfamiliar and somehow it felt both empowering and humbling at the same time. He was, as one might say, _head over heels_.

At the end of the day, though, just because he felt something extraordinary didn't mean the blond felt the same. Din could only hope that he did, and he could interpret words and gestures, read meaning into them-- but there was no guarantee that he was 'reading' correctly. Again, this was completely uncharted territory for him. He had less than zero experience and absolutely no clue how to even proceed in these situations. How do you tell someone you think about kissing them at least 10 to 15 times a day? How do you say that looking at them makes your body respond in all kinds of really inappropriate ways? How do you make someone see how much they genuinely mean to you? 

Din had no idea… and then he realised that his self-pitying inner monologue had gone on for far too long. He was distantly aware that at some stage the blond said something to him that he hadn't even acknowledged, let alone replied to. So by then, Nathan had given up on getting an answer and just continued cooking in silence.

“Sorry, I spaced out. What did you say?”

“Nothing important, don’t worry.”

“No, please. Tell me again, really.”

“I just said that I think you’re really paradoxical. I was making conversation, that’s all.”

“Okay… in what way?”

“In _every_ way.”

“Give me an example then.”

The blond shrugged, looking around while he searched for the words he wanted to reply with, and it just sent Din's mind careening off on a tangent again. Nathan was shirtless and it wouldn't be an issue, really, if only Din was a reasonable sort of man. After all, Endor was in the midst of its hottest season and he himself felt a little stewed under all his layers.

It was absolutely an issue, though, and he was incapable of being reasonable when it came to the large expanse of skin that was currently within his line of sight. It was incredibly distracting, he kept following the droplets of sweat that ran down the blond's back with hawk-like focus. And every time Nathan turned around, he followed those drops as they made their leisurely way down his chest, towards the patch of hair that he could only assume continued ever downwards, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. It was borderline torture at this point. 

“Well, I don’t really want to get philosophical. Let’s just say-- you could snap me in half like a twig, right? But then you really, and I mean _really_ , hate stubbing your toe. You react like it’s a mortal wound that you’ll never recover from. That’s-- you know, paradoxical. Big, strong Mandalorian, brought to his knees by a _toe_.”

"But who doesn't hate stubbing their toe?"

"Bothans, probably. I read once that it's an erogenous zone for them."

Laughter burst from him before he could help it and Nathan feigned being offended.

"I'm serious, Din! Don't go judging what gets other species off. That wasn’t even the point anyway.”

“I got the point. And I'm not judging the Bothans, I'm judging the kind of books you've been reading."

"Yeah, well, don’t do that either. Just-- eat your lunch."

With that, he dropped a heaped plate of food on the table and was gone, leaving Din alone in the kitchen and hopelessly amused. The kid cooed happily at him when he removed his helmet, seemingly always glad to see his face, and he focused on the task of eating his meal in companionable silence.

It was nice to be back on the ship, even if it was just temporary. Or rather, it was nice to be back with Nathan and the baby. He'd just returned that morning after spending a day away, trekking into the forests of Endor while following the coordinates they'd received. Obviously, he'd felt that he should scope out the situation before he'd risk bringing the others along-- but there was no risk, as it turned out.

He found his covert living among the trees in a small elevated settlement. Everything seemed precarious, looking from the ground up, but once you got closer, you could see the fine details of craftsmanship that had built a sturdy and impressive stretch of tree houses and communal areas. It wasn't entirely unlike the old Ewok towns, but perhaps just more refined (and more fortified, more easily defensible with a high ground advantage). Beneath them, the lands were farmed, and all manner of fresh produce was growing in neat rows, next to some small pens with grazing animals as well. It had the makings of a community, a peaceful place to settle and coexist, and it was still close enough to the port and the town centre for the kinds of supplies that could only be bought.

What more could you ask for, really? Not to mention, there were some new foundlings running around and Din immediately thought about his own child having other kids to play with. There was a healthy mix of people, actually, from what he could see. Locals and natives had definitely gravitated towards the Mandalorian settlement, perhaps drawn closer by curiosity. Their numbers had grown considerably, but maybe that was just a by-product of not hiding out in sewers. This was certainly a safe and welcoming little village, so long as everyone did their part and the traditions of his people weren't interfered with by any outsiders.

There was an unmistakable sense of belonging everywhere he looked. The Mandalorians were happy and they felt accepted and respected. Vizla was thriving, for lack of a better word, and actually seemed to be very pleased with the fact that Din had answered his call. Plus, the kid was already being referred to as a foundling and there was an unspoken consensus that Din was pretty much a _father_ now.

This meant, of course, that there was cause for celebration and everyone was eager to meet his companions, the two lives that they'd helped save back on Nevarro all those months ago. In the end, he’d stayed the night so he could rest, and then left as the sun rose, encouraged by Vizla to go back to the ship and return with his 'family' in tow.

The feelings in his chest were a little unfamiliar but he could discern them well enough. He was excited. He was happy. And he was looking forward to settling in the village and calling it 'home', at least for a while. He could only hope that Nathan found the treehouse settlement as charming as he did.

\- - - - -

Realistically, they were never going to get everything they needed onto the speeder bike to make just one trip between the village and the ship. Besides, there was still a chance that Nathan wouldn't fancy staying there, so they simply loaded up what they could with an afternoon’s worth of hard work and got ready to leave the next morning.

Din felt like he didn't want to disrupt the peace in that forest once the sun had begun to set. On principle, it just wasn't smart to travel at night, but there was also no telling what life forms might be lured out in the dark on such a luscious ecosystem. Understandably, Nathan agreed with him.

The blond was _on edge_ , though. That was the best way to describe it. On the surface, it didn’t seem like Nathan was feeling particularly charmed by their destination. Maybe he didn't quite like the idea of 'forest living'-- or maybe he wasn't keen on moving in with other people just like Din.

Nevertheless, the somewhat unsure atmosphere between them was starting to bother him, so he figured he might as well pull up some courage and talk it out over dinner. It was a rather unusual thing for him to do, _talk it out,_ but apparently Nathan just seemed to bring that kind of unexpected gesture out of him.

"I get the sense you're less than thrilled about where we're going."

It took a few moments for the blond to respond to the statement, so for a bit he just continued cooking and feeding small green vegetables to the child under Din's critical gaze. His demeanour was subdued and that, in itself, was unsettling and out of character. 

"No, I'm looking forward to it."

"Okay. Can I ask you something?"

"Can I stop you?"

"Do you want to?"

"I'm not sure I want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

That earned him a glare, perfectly conveying the sentiment of: _you're not going to let this go, are you?_

No, he wasn't, so he applied a little more pressure.

"What don't you want to talk about?"

"It's nothing."

"Nathan... It's okay if you don't think this is the place for us. You just have to let me know."

"It's not that. This place is beautiful and everything you told me about the settlement sounds wonderful."

"... _But_? What's eating at you?"

"It's-- I don't know. I guess I'm just wondering what people will think of me."

"You don't have to be worried about that, I promise."

"They risked everything so you could go cowboying around with me and this kid, Din. I'm sure they're very interested to see who they sacrificed their homes and livelihoods for. I don't particularly want to give them reasons to think it wasn't worth it. I mean-- I don't know. It's dumb. The baby will steal the spotlight anyway, so I’m worrying for nothing."

It was just insane the way Nathan would completely undervalue himself sometimes. One day, he would be confident about his role in their dynamic and their partnership, but then-- the next he would revert back to being worried that he was an unwelcome burden and a misfit.

Maybe a nasty corner of his mind would occasionally make him think that Din’s careless words from a while ago, about leaving him behind so he could be someone else's problem, were a true reflection of how the Mandalorian felt about his presence. That couldn't, of course, be further from the actual truth. But every once in a while, it just seemed like Nathan believed it nonetheless.

"First of all, I don't _cowboy around_. And also-- What are you even saying? Why would anyone think that you're not worth it?"

"I could recite some reasons from a long and annotated list, if you'd like."

That was just absurd, and he intended to say as much, but the blond cut him off before he could.

"I just don't want to let you down. Or make you look bad."

Din felt like he needed a decent amount of time just to unpack those statements and the sentiments behind them. He didn't know how to even begin responding, and replying with a simple, 'there's no way you could let me down', just seemed equal parts cliché and condescending.

"Nathan--"

"I told you it was dumb. Just-- make sure I don't say, or do anything stupid, _please_. Or disrespectful."

"You might know more about my culture than me, so I hardly think that's likely."

Not for the first time, he really wished he was better at communication. And if he was being honest, in that moment, it was primarily because he didn't really know how to explain the fact that everyone at the covert seemed to have inadvertently assumed that Nathan was, well, his _cyar'ika_. His partner-- in the romantic sense. The armourer in particular was expecting him to return with his child and his 'beloved', so they could meet the covert. She'd left the room before he even had time to process that sentence, let alone refute it, and afterwards he realised that was the belief shared by pretty much everyone else.

Mandalorians were solitary people, especially foundlings. Not in the sense that they were lone wolves, but rather, all their connections were usually formed solely within the clan. Once they found themselves away from it, they tended to live, travel and work alone. And even though their numbers were so low nowadays, their views when it came to interpersonal relationships hadn't changed all that much.

So, if a Mandalorian was choosing to willingly share their life and their home with someone from outside the covert-- that was seen as something unusual, but also wonderful. Surely, it meant that they had found someone special, who respected their traditions and held them in high esteem. Someone for whom they had strong feelings.

Realistically, his people were well aware that things like the helmets and the armour, their way of life, could be rather off-putting for most possible suitors who weren't also Mandalorian. So for someone to stick around despite it-- well, that was looked upon very favourably. 

As a result of this, Nathan was already well thought of within the covert. Everyone was already under the impression that he was a person who accepted and respected their way of life, someone who had gained Din's approval and trust... and then captured his heart. That was entirely true, of course, but it's not like Nathan was aware of it.

And now he was sitting across from Din needlessly worrying.

But how exactly could he say all this to him? Particularly while avoiding the awkward component of, _yes, so, they think I want to build myself a home with you and the child because we're a couple_. It just didn't seem possible to approach the topic without poking at the hornets nest that was his feelings.

So in the end, Din chose to keep it all to himself and Nathan was just as nervous the following morning, fidgeting uncomfortably during the entire journey to the village. In fact, the settlement was already visible in the distance before the blond even said his first words of the whole trip, clearly lost in thoughts that still centred around their conversation over dinner.

"I obviously don't really know more than you about your culture. I just like your armour. And I've only read about the tenets. There's six, right? Wearing the armour, speaking the language, defending the clan, raising foundlings, and... what am I forgetting?" 

"They're not going to quiz you, Nathan." 

"Yeah, I know. Just-- is there something I really need to be mindful of?" 

_They've mistaken us for a couple and I need to find the right time to clear that little misunderstanding up,_ should have been his next words, but they weren't. Din was just going to roll with it and hope that the blond didn't pick up on that little issue before he had the chance to speak to Vizla and the armourer about it.

"No, just relax." 

"I don't want to be considered… _dar'manda_. Did I say it right?" 

At that, he had no choice but to stop the bike and turn around, forcing Nathan to let go of the hold he had around his waist. Up until then, the whole of the blond’s front had pretty much been plastered to Din's back while they rode in silence, something he’d been enjoying quite a bit. 

To hear him speak of the _dar'manda_ though, that was jarring. Those were soulless people who didn't abide by the tenets. The only caveat was: you had to claim to be Mandalorian for that particularly spiteful epithet to apply to you. 

"No one is going to find you soulless. And you haven't made a commitment to join the covert, so they have no right to judge you for living outside of our ways."

"But I've made a commitment to _you_. I just don't want to mess up anything for you, that's all."

 _Wow_ , he was really intent on making things difficult for Din. If only he knew the kind of 'commitment' everyone really thought he'd made.

"Nathan, I need you to trust me on this. It's going to be fine. I promise that you don't have to worry. Okay?" 

He turned around without waiting for a response, so he felt the answering nod against his shoulder instead. It was endearing, really, that the blond was so anxious about this meeting. He didn't want to read too much into it, but a hopeful corner of his mind couldn't help but think that it meant something, that it spoke volumes about how much Nathan wanted to be a part of his life. 

It certainly meant a lot to him, in any case.

\- - - - -

Upon their arrival, the covert had organised a lunch for them, even though the only people who could eat were Nathan, other non-Mandalorian partners, the child, and the other foundlings. Nevertheless, everyone crowded around a communal area and conversation flowed loudly and good naturedly. 

Unsurprisingly, the kid did in fact steal the spotlight. He seemed to enchant just about anyone that approached them to greet Din and introduce themselves to Nathan. It worked out in his favour, really, because it meant not a single person had made a comment that alluded to the fact that they were all under the impression he was sitting next to his 'beloved'.

Also unsurprisingly, the blond was immediately fascinated by the armourer and within minutes of Din introducing them, they wandered off together, presumably towards the forge, completely lost in conversation about their craft. It was then, of course, that Vizla approached him and took the seat that was now vacant next to him.

The child cooed at the imposing and heavily armoured figure. He struggled out of Din’s hold to climb into the giant’s lap instead, immediately pushing and pulling at visible latches and straps on the armour.

“Is it always this… handsy?”

Even though Vizla had raised a couple children of his own, he always looked comically large and inept next to kids. It was rather amusing to see.

“Not always. Only when he likes you, so-- congratulations.”

“Ah. Well, he’s certainly precious. It is clearer now, what the motivations behind your actions on Nevarro were. Although, I do find it curious that your _cyar'ika_ doesn’t appear to be aware of his standing. If I were a betting man, I’d say you haven’t actually claimed him as such.”

“And you would win that bet." How did he even know? "I’m sorry there’s been a misunderstanding. I meant to discuss it with you later, in private.”

“There’s been no misunderstanding, Djarin. You only need to call upon your honour and your courage to make it so.”

“I’m not sure--”

“It is how you feel, is it not?”

“Well, yes, but--”

“Then you make it so. It's clearly how he feels as well.”

Din honestly had no answer for that. After a moment, Vizla excused himself with the kid, saying that he wanted to introduce the little gremlin to his wife. He watched them go, pleased that the baby seemed delighted to be so high up in the Mandalorian’s arms, babbling excitedly at every shape and sound along the way.

He was still reeling from Vizla’s words when Nathan claimed his seat again.

“Where’s the kid?”

In lieu of speaking, he just pointed at the couple across from them, past the fire pit where the food was cooking.

“Oh cute. I haven’t met them, have I? He certainly seems important.”

“No, you haven’t. That’s Paz Vizla, he’s like-- a general.”

“What would you call him? In your language, I mean.”

“ _Alor’aan_.”

“Has a nice ring to it. Do you have a title?”

“ _Alor’ad_. But-- they don't have any meaning unless we’re called to war. They’re just military ranks.”

“So what rank is yours?”

“Captain.”

The look on Nathan’s face went directly to his ego. Din had to resist the urge to preen.

“ _Well then_ , I had no idea I was travelling with someone so fancy and important.”

“Stop that.”

“Oh no, I’m serious. I need to start addressing you more respectfully from now on. Would you like me to save you a plate of food, sir? I can take it to your quarters so you can have some later. It would be my honour.”

“No, I would like you to knock it off.”

Nathan’s laughter turned a few heads. It was always fascinating for the Mandalorians to sit around with those who weren’t in the clan-- and to observe the way they interacted with their Mandalorian partners most of all.

“Actually, I have a serious question. You see what they’re doing over there? Does that mean something?”

Din glanced in the direction of the blond’s nod, finding an armoured couple in the midst of a _Keldabe_ kiss.

“The headbutting couple?”

“Oh, they’re a couple?”

“Yes. That’s a kiss.”

“You’re _kidding_.”

“No, how else are we supposed to kiss?”

“… I guess I never thought of that before.”

Public displays of affection were few and far between and it was pretty much just always the gentle headbutts that lasted only for a few seconds. It’s not that they would be offended by any other displays, really, it’s just that everyone was simply naturally used to being private.

Nathan didn’t say anything further and after a while, Vizla returned the child to them, introducing himself in the process. The rest of the lunch was uneventful and as time wore on, the blond grew visibly more relaxed. He’d worried for nothing, just as Din had predicted, and thankfully there hadn’t been any awkward moments regarding their apparent status as a couple.

\- - - - -

They spent the afternoon unpacking in the little treehouse cabin that would hopefully become their home, at least for a while, and now he was leaning on the doorway to what would be Nathan’s room-- watching in amusement while the blond celebrated having a mattress for himself again.

With all the essentials arranged, they were ready to turn in for the night, so he made to leave and was already halfway towards his own room, when Nathan stopped him.

“I’m sorry I freaked out about everything.”

“That’s okay." He didn't know what else he was supposed to say. "I understand.”

“Right, well, I just wanted to-- I mean--”

Before Din could process what was happening, Nathan crowded into his personal space and stood, hesitantly, on his toes. Then he leaned forward, and touched his forehead to Din’s helmet.

The moment was over before he had any real chance to overcome his surprise, or savour it. Nathan blushed a shade of red he’d never quite seen before and immediately scampered back to his room with a quick, “goodnight”.

Din was paralysed in the hallway for at least a good 10 minutes. That was his first kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the show, the armourer mentioned something about Din's Beskar improvements being fitting for someone of his stature - or something like that - so... I rolled with that and tied it back to Mandalorian military ranks. just go with it, thanks.
> 
> also also - technically I wasn't lying when I said they kissed this chapter. don't kill me. I promise there is more in the next one.......


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the dark, one kiss can go a long way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha. the word count of this chapter vs the actual events in this chapter... I don't know how this happened. it's literally only two moments in time. 
> 
> nevertheless... I hope everyone enjoys this one...

**Chapter 10 - Dark**

**Dark** (noun): the absence of light in a place.

 **Dark** (adjective): with little or no light. _Similar :_ pitch black, unlit.

\- - - - -

Din was still in the hallway outside his room. Nathan hadn’t heard him move away yet and it wasn’t like those heavy boots could have walked off unnoticed in the tranquil quiet of the house.

In his defence, what happened was entirely unplanned. He’d spent so long imagining what it would be like to kiss the Mandalorian. When he’d seen that couple by the fire butting heads, it had hopelessly endeared him to the idea of doing the same.

He was truly a lost cause. After all, it was absolutely ridiculous how someone could be so enamoured by a faceless man that walked around in too many layers of shiny armour. And yet… here he was, definitely well past the point of no return. Quite honestly, he had no idea how Din actually managed to have so much sex appeal whilst being covered from head to toe, usually only communicating exclusively through shrugs and head tilts.

And sex appeal aside, there was just so much that had wholeheartedly attracted him towards the other man. From the way he dealt with the child, to the way he was unexpectedly thoughtful and considerate. Courageous, determined, respectful, faithful to his traditions. Fiercely loyal. At first, Nathan thought that loyalty extended to the kid only, but eventually he realised it applied to him just as much.

So all things considered-- he might have just lost the best thing that ever happened to him. The longer time dragged on, the more he thought that he must have angered Din, overstepped some sacred boundary or insulted the meaning behind the gesture. Maybe they should have talked about it. And maybe he completely misread everything between them that had led up to that moment.

The problem was, he had no idea how to voice everything that he felt, everything he’d been feeling for quite some time. The stakes had never been higher and every time he considered that a confession could be met with rejection, it made his heart ache in a way he’d truly never felt before. He wasn’t ready to take that risk only to potentially lose everything in return.

Yet somehow he’d just gone and catapulted over the line that stood between _friends_ and _something more_. 

Anxiety made him ease the door to his room open again. Sure enough, once he peeked out, he found the shape of the other man in the dimly lit hallway, standing so still he might not even be breathing. That wasn’t necessarily anything new for Din, however. Nathan was well used to seeing him spending hours on end resting so still, you’d think he was asleep behind that helmet (and usually he was just watching, calculating, analysing). It was unnerving at first, but after a while he got used to the Mandalorian’s interminable stares and even learned to find peace in the companionable silence. To think he might have just ruined those kinds of moments-- and a whole host of other things he’d come to find so precious.

Well, it really never failed to amaze him how much of a dumbass he could truly be. This was just on par for the course.

Surprisingly, Din moved, stepping closer. Not for the first time, Nathan really wished that he could see the face behind the helmet and get some idea of what he might be feeling.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say in order to break the ice.

“It’s alright,” was all he got in response.

But it didn’t sound like it was. It didn't feel _alright_ either.

“I feel foolish. I didn’t mean to--”

“Don’t feel foolish. You just surprised me.”

Interestingly enough, Nathan actually thought that his feelings had to be rather obvious by then. They seemed to burst out of him at the most unfortunate of times and he was convinced that there was no way Din hadn’t already noticed the way he looked at him. Or the way all his touches lingered. The way he couldn’t stop himself from finding reasons to compliment the Mandalorian.

“Well, like I said, I’m--”

“ _Nathan_. I liked it. I’ve just never been kissed before. Hence the surprise.”

It felt difficult to even breathe all of a sudden.

“Like that? Or just-- in general?”

Dumb question, but he really needed to stall for time. Just to give himself the chance to regain control of the frantic feeling in his chest.

“Uh-- In general? I mean, you know, I’ve got the--”

“The helmet.”

“Yes, the helmet.”

A spectacularly stupid plan began to form in his head and before he could think better of it, he held out a hand towards the other man. After a few seconds, thankfully, Din took it, allowing himself to be pulled the rest of the way into his room. Nathan took it slow and his grip on the Mandalorian’s hand was loose, giving him every chance to back away at any moment.

Once they were inside, he let go to close the door and seal the one small window in the corner, tapering down every gap between the curtain and the frame. He could no longer see the shiny Beskar armour once he turned around. Even after allowing his eyes to adjust for a moment, it was much too dark to discern any solid shapes. There wasn’t a lot of natural light outside to begin with and barely any of it managed to make it past the thick wool over the window. All the lights in the house were out as well.

Basically, it felt like their surroundings were pitch black.

He walked carefully back towards the direction where he conceptually knew the doorway was. The last thing he wanted, realistically, was to stub a toe or something else equally as mood-killing. To ruin a perfectly good moment.

Din’s hands found him somewhere along the way, but he had an unfair advantage since the helmet was fitted with night vision.

“What’s this? What are you doing?”

He sounded about as unsure as Nathan felt. For some reason, that emboldened him a little. Self-preservation was really never his forte.

“I can’t see you, right? Not like the child can.”

“No.”

“But it’s not about wearing the helmet. It’s about not seeing your face. Yeah?”

“...Yes.”

It was too late to turn back. He really hoped he wasn't about to permanently damage the fragile bond that was taking shape between them.

“I can’t _see_ anything right now...”

He let the statement hang between them and gain significance in the silence that followed. Wordlessly, gloved hands let go of him before he heard the unmistakable sound of the helmet being lifted. Within moments, the heavy metal thudded softly on the ground and after a small rustle, bare hands found his again.

 _Right_ \-- he only half expected that to work. He wasn’t really prepared for things to go any further. Nathan was the only one with any kind of experience between them and yet he felt 14 years old again. Clueless and overly excited.

Luckily, it seemed Din was just as keen as him. Quick to catch on to his ill-considered plan.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“Yes-- I’d like to. I was just-- I don’t know." He needed to pull himself together, seriously. "Is that okay?”

“... Yes.”

“ _Oh_. Okay. Great. Just-- yeah, come here.”

Before he could ruin the mood any further, he closed the distance between them, taking one of the Mandalorian’s hands and guiding it to rest on his cheek. The fingers that begun caressing his face were warm like a furnace and so soft that it was nearly distracting. They bumped foreheads first, which was rather ironic, then let their noses touch softly as well.

He had to take the lead, he knew that. Once he was sure that he wouldn’t pass out from lack of oxygen, he pushed up further to bring their lips together. Not knowing if the other man would be comfortable with having his face touched, he kept his fingers safely curled around the pauldrons of the cold Beskar armour. There was no telling if he might spook Din by taking too much, too soon, and that would just be disastrous at this stage.

Short trimmed whiskers tickled over his philtrum, but not quite enough to distract Nathan from the cushioned softness of Din’s lips. The other man seemed somewhat frozen in place, immovable beneath his hands. Back so straight you’d think he was standing at attention in a parade. The soft sound that escaped the back of his throat when their lips touched, however... that told a different story. A far more promising one.

Nathan actually feared that his heart was going to give out any moment, that it couldn’t possibly take anymore excitement. He pressed forward just a little more insistently anyway-- and suddenly found himself leaning backwards under the considerable weight of the other man. He was drawn in by a desperate embrace that pulled him closer and held him tight. It was like every muscle in the Mandalorian’s body had uncoiled and come alive in the span of a second.

If Nathan felt overwhelmed before, it was nothing compared to how heat spread through his body then.

It was certainly a special kind of feeling, to learn that his affections -- all those quiet thoughts and turbulent emotions he’d kept unspoken for months, just simmering and barely concealed behind every action and word-- all of it was, in fact, reciprocated. Din seemed to want him about as ardently as Nathan longed for him in return. It felt a little surreal.

Hesitantly, he parted his lips, allowing his tongue to trail over the other man’s, trying to invite him to deepen the kiss. The Mandalorian all but melted in his arms and the accompanying noise that left him shot through Nathan like a lightning bolt. Feeling encouraged, he did it again, less hesitantly. The gesture was returned in kind, albeit endearingly slow and soft, like Din wasn’t quite sure if that’s what he was supposed to do in response. It nearly destroyed him, the contrast of having such a powerful man in his arms opening up to him with a heart-warming degree of vulnerability on display. If Nathan didn’t already absolutely _adore_ the other man, there was no way he wouldn’t do so after tonight.

From then on, he got lost in their innocent and slow exchange of open-mouthed kisses. It wasn’t an altogether hard thing to do. Din was radiating warmth and his hand kept stroking softly over Nathan's lower back, the other buried in a handful of his hair. He was being held in place. Gently but still in a way that told him he shouldn’t move-- which was just fine, really. He was more than happy to let the other man take as much as he wanted. Not to mention, the Mandalorian’s quiet but encouraging noises made his knees weak every single time.

He could only hope that Din was enjoying his first kisses even just half as much as he was. Din was clearly inexperienced and earnestly unsure of himself. But he was passionate and too overwhelmed to restrain his eagerness too. Quite frankly, Nathan didn't think he'd ever actually enjoyed kissing so much. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of it, of Din, from then on.

In the end, after what felt like hours but was probably just a few minutes, breaking apart was more difficult than it had any right to be. He was flushed and honestly very turned on. He felt like the room was spinning and he was sure that the Mandalorian could hear the wild patter of his heart. At least the other man sounded vaguely out of breath as well, still holding him in a dizzying embrace.

“I should go back to my room. Sunlight, you know...”

It made him feel unreasonably pleased that Din sounded like that was just about the last thing he actually wanted to do. He also sounded absolutely _wrecked_ though, and that… that did very little to alleviate the insistent pressure of his arousal. He should feel embarrassed-- but it was, after all, completely dark in the room. Small mercies.

“You could stay. I can cover my eyes.”

When he didn’t get an answer after a few moments, Nathan scrambled to plead his case.

“I promise I won’t look.”

He would never dream of betraying the Mandalorian like that. So many chances to do so had come and gone, but just the idea of taking that away from Din was nauseating to him.

“It’s not that, I trust you. I just-- don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“It will be fine, _please_. I’d really like it if you stayed...”

He felt no shame in the fact that he’d do anything to share the intimacy of sleeping in the same bed. He craved that kind of closeness with soul-deep longing. Endor nights were actually unseasonably cold and Nathan wanted Din to wrap himself around his smaller frame and hold him, keep him warm and safe. He wanted to feel the other man’s breath hitting the back of his neck, just like he had when the Mandalorian nearly succumbed to his hypothermia. Except this time he really wanted to enjoy that feeling free of any life-threatening circumstances. Obviously.

Thankfully, Din agreed and left to go check on the baby while Nathan fetched a piece of cloth that he could use as a blindfold. He’d already put it on by the time he heard the sounds of the other man returning to the room and switching off the lights again. He felt exposed, vulnerable and dizzy. But he wouldn’t dream of turning back now. Not when he was so close to being gifted such an extraordinary experience.

The chest that crowded into his back was unarmoured and it nearly made his knees give out beneath him. Gently, he was guided to lie down, feeling around to make sure there was enough room for Din to join him. A staggering amount of trust was being placed in him and it was humbling. Nathan meant to savour every second of it. He thought there was no way he’d fall asleep in a timely manner with all the adrenaline still coursing through him.

Once the Mandalorian nestled in behind him, though, he was out like a light within minutes. Luxuriating in the warmth that engulfed him, relaxed beyond belief. In fact, he barely even registered the pair of lips trailing feather-light kisses over his shoulders.

Which, really, was a damn shame.

\- - - - -

Waking up with a piece of cloth secured over his eyes was a really weird experience. Nathan nearly ripped the damn thing off before he came to his senses. Or rather, before a warm hand caught his wrist and stopped him.

“Don’t do that.”

Oh, it was much too early in the morning for his body to have such a euphoric response but _wow--_ Din’s voice was truly something else in that moment. Just a rich, quiet rumble that seemed to soak honey into all his joints and muscles.

“Sorry. I forgot.”

His wrist stayed in the Mandalorian’s grasp and he realised that he was being kissed again. He was much more awake this time to savour the feeling spreading over his neck and shoulders.

“Hm. Don’t move. I’ve thought about doing this a lot.”

Nathan did _not_ need to be told twice. Wouldn’t dream of interrupting what was happening. Never even wanted it to end. He was enveloped in a warm cocoon and even though the temperature was rising quickly as the morning wore on, he was unbelievably comfortable.

He had no way to tell how late or early it actually was, but it seemed they were in for another humid and hot day in the tropical moon. When Din started pulling at the collar of his shirt trying to uncover more skin, Nathan asked if he could take it off-- partially blaming the heat for his request. Thankfully, it wasn’t nearly as awkward as it could have been to wiggle out of the thin garment. At least he hadn’t accidentally elbowed the other man in the process.

Instead of spooning him again, the Mandalorian guided him to roll over onto his back before trailing a single finger from the base of his throat to just above his belly button. It flooded him with barely contained desire and Nathan was acutely aware that unlike last night, there was nothing to conceal his growing erection. Not with the sunlight that was undoubtedly streaming in through the gaps in the curtain.

In his defence, it had been quite a long time since anyone had touched him. And Din… Din was special anyway. In that moment, Din was an anchor in the darkness and he would give himself over to the other man without reservation. More than willing to do anything that might give the Mandalorian even an inkling of how much Nathan liked him.

He was getting sappy. This was really not the moment to get _sappy._ Not when he was pretty much halfway to getting a raging hard-on and Din’s hand was dangerously close to touching it. To his credit, he was staying very still and being very patient-- despite the fact that every nerve ending in his body was literally on fire. He should be commended.

“Everyone thinks we’re a couple. The covert, I mean. They think you’re my _cyar'ika_.”

Din sounded about as composed as Nathan felt. Meaning: _not at all_. It was equal parts reassuring and even more of a turn on. Somehow, he mustered enough wits to reply. Trying to ignore the leisurely exploration of his abdomen that was being carried out by the other man's fingers.

“What does that mean?”

“Beloved.”

Oh… _beloved_. Right.

Despite the heart attack that was surely imminent, Nathan managed to gather enough sense to tell Din about his conversation with the armourer the day before. Particularly about the unexpected moment she’d referred to him as Din’s ‘beloved’ like it was an inconsequential and well-established fact.

It had sent him to a whole other _dimension_ , thoughts racing as the nugget of hope in his heart skyrocketed to unprecedented heights. The Mandalorian just laughed at him, knowing better than most that Nathan was woefully ill-equipped to handle awkward situations. He'd all but stuttered his way through the rest of that conversation with the armourer, blushing a deep shade of red the whole time.

“Stop it. Don’t make fun of me. I’m sure this isn’t how you’re supposed to treat your _cyar'ika_ , you know.”

He butchered the pronunciation. Din didn’t seem to mind, if the kiss he received was anything to go by. Nathan was going to take that as an apology. It was kind of… odd, to experience all of the lingering touches and kisses with the blindfold on. ‘Odd’ in a good way though. Definitely in the _best_ of ways.

“I like this.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. But I was actually talking about the blindfold.”

Although, in hindsight, there was no way for Din to have known that from his vague words alone. He was just-- so dizzy with arousal, he could hardly process a single thought long enough to make any sense of it.

“You don’t wish you could take it off?”

“Of course I wish I could take it off and see you.” There was no point denying that and he’d much rather be honest. “But I don’t need to. And I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“Hm. You haven’t touched me yet.”

“Not for lack of wanting. Trust me. I just don’t want to overstep.”

Din took hold of his hands then, guiding both of them up to frame either side of his uncovered face. It was exhilarating, to say the least. Nathan couldn’t necessarily discern any meaningful details, but he could learn enough. From the broad nose, to the sharp lines of his jaw... the most surprising of all was actually the full head of soft, unkempt hair.

It seemed fitting that the Mandalorian had strong features. Topped off with his neatly trimmed facial hair, it all painted the perfect picture of a rugged warrior. The delicate and unruly strands of slightly too long hair, however... was unexpected but very welcome. He kept both his hands buried in it while he closed the distance between them, resuming their lazy kissing from the night before.

As if on instinct, he slotted their hips together and was immediately rewarded with the unmistakable feeling of Din’s arousal pressing against his own. It was thrilling to know that he was clearly not the only one so affected by what was happening. Nathan tried to push and pull himself even closer, seeking even a small measure of friction between them. The other man seemed equally as eager to find a position that would be mutually beneficial.

Just as a desperate whimper escaped him, a far louder noise filtered through the haze in his mind. It took him a few shameful moments to decipher it and it took Din even longer. But eventually… well, _eventually_ they both realised what it was. They were way too mortified to do anything but hold their breath and freeze. For far too long.

The child was in the room. Probably in the doorway, if he was judging the distance correctly from his hearing alone, babbling incoherently at them. It was, in all fairness, probably well past breakfast time.

Still-- absolutely _tragic_ timing, kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of my notes for this chapter was just "and then the baby interrupts". so he did. he most certainly did.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living in an aerial settlement 30 feet above ground does have some logistical drawbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for the overwhelming support this silly little story has garnered.  
> P.S. this chapter briefly mentions an open/compound arm fracture. not in detail, just abstractly, really. I don't think it's enough to make anyone squeamish (especially if reading about Nathan's wound didn't bother you) but.. here's your warning anyway.

**Chapter 11 - Heal**

**Heal** (verb): cause (a wound, injury, or person) to become sound or healthy again.

\- - - - -

There was courage to be found in the dark. Din hadn’t considered that before, but once he found it to be true he took full advantage of it. When the room was shrouded in darkness and his helmet was removed, he should have been uncomfortable but instead it felt like the playing field was even, like Nathan and him had never stood on more equal ground. The blond had been just as nervous, just as exposed, just as eager. And he’d stood to lose just as much as Din did. In the end, that knowledge had been unbelievably empowering.

He’d still been anxious, of course, and keenly aware of his inexperience. At one point, all his movements felt clumsy and awkward, but Nathan didn’t seem to mind and whether intentionally or not, the blond had made him feel so at ease and free to explore, to touch, to try things he’d only ever had fevered dreams of. Because yes, Din had imagined, in great detail, what kissing would be like since meeting Nathan. To be honest, his expectations were more than exceeded.

When he’d wrapped himself around the blond to sleep, it’s possible that he’d never felt happier. The whole night was cathartic, in a way, liberating and eye-opening. He still wasn’t sure what he ever did to deserve the way his life was unfolding, but he was desperately thankful for it and he couldn’t really imagine ever going back to a solitary existence, without the child and without Nathan.

The next morning hadn’t been any less hectic, in a good way. It brought with it new challenges, but also new discoveries. The blindfold had still afforded him the same ease and comfort that he’d felt the night before, but the difference, of course, was that the playing field was not quite so even anymore. He could see everything, especially with the warm sunlight streaming in through the window, but Nathan had been entirely robbed of this privilege. To his credit though, the blond was very agreeable, docile even, willing to be touched, pushed and pulled any way Din felt like. It had made his heart burst and at this stage there was absolutely no way Nathan wasn’t aware of how smitten he was.

Admittedly, he’d been a little greedy with his affections. He knew that he’d been threading a very fine line between exploring and teasing, could clearly see how much his touch and his kisses were affecting the blond, but it was intoxicating and he couldn’t seem to stop. For his part, Nathan was either shameless, or hoping that somehow Din hadn’t been looking in all the right directions to catalogue the mounting arousal within him.

Asides from the obvious erection stiffening in the blond’s pants, there were goosebumps breaking out wherever Din’s fingers touched, the muscles of his abdomen tensed and relaxed erratically, his hands trembled in anticipation, his breathing was laboured. A small bead of sweat gathered in the valley above his lips, which were often parted in silent gasps between words. Din might be inexperienced, but in that moment, Nathan had been an open book: he was incredibly turned on and very much enjoying everything that was taking place between them. The feeling had been undeniably mutual.

Din had never felt a thrill like that before. He was strong, a good fighter, resilient, a survivor. He’d bested a lot of enemies and brought down much larger beings. Yet… he’d never felt so powerful. It would be rather disingenuous to deny the fact that his ego was well and truly on cloud nine after that morning. Din didn’t even know he was capable of doing something like that, of making anyone feel those kinds of things, of providing enjoyment with his hands and his lips alone. He was used to dealing damage, so it was really refreshing to give pleasure instead. He could see himself growing rather attached to the idea of it and he couldn’t wait to discover what other reactions he might be able to draw out of Nathan.

In the end, the child’s interruption was… _unfortunate_ , to say the least. Once the shock wore off, Nathan had laughed so hard, he’d nearly choked on air. It took Din a little longer than that to stop feeling absolutely mortified, which only made the blond laugh even harder. He was still disappointed, yes, but if he could go back and redo the events of that morning, he wouldn’t change a single thing. The kid was entirely too innocent to stay mad at and he still thought that everything they’d shared was absolutely perfect. No exceptions.

In fact, the only thing he’d like to change, if he could have a do-over of that particular day, would be to question his decision to do some maintenance work on the suspension bridge that connected the makeshift town centre with the forge on the outskirts of the village. He was eager to earn their place in this settlement and Nathan was similarly inclined as well, so they'd decided to volunteer for a number of odd jobs that day. Din didn't particularly wish that he hadn’t offered to help with the bridge, he just wished he hadn’t failed to secure his harness correctly. It would have surely prevented him from falling from a height of at least 30 feet, through some large and thick leaved foliage, before inelegantly landing on a single outstretched hand.

Thank every star in the universe that his otherwise fatal fall had been hindered by the massive leafage along the way, but even with his decreased momentum… it wasn’t pretty. To make it easier to squeeze his hands into tight spaces, he’d removed his vambraces before starting work and now could clearly see the bone sticking out of his forearm. A rather large one, in fact. In hindsight, it was equally as lucky that he hadn't fallen on one the tools strapped to him, or he might have had a screwdriver stuck through his hip on top of everything else. Nevertheless, his situation was what you might call, _dire_. There was so much shock-fuelled adrenaline coursing through him, he didn't even register the considerable pain he should've been feeling. Actually, the only thing he was distantly aware of was the fact that he'd probably just irrevocably damaged his dominant arm.

People were quick to find him, still dazedly staring at his arm and the concerning amount of blood steadily soaking through the fabric of his sleeve. The rush to the infirmary was equally as quick, but he was fading fast-- whether from blood loss or from sheer shock, he couldn't tell. The last thing he managed to voice was frantically pleading for the child to be kept away. He knew the kid wouldn't be able to stop himself from force-healing his arm, and it just wasn't worth it. They couldn't jeopardize the baby's health in exchange for theirs, not when they still didn't fully understand the nature or consequences of the healing process. The request confused the medics, surely, but he trusted Nathan would know what to do without needing to be told. That was just about the last coherent thought he had, before giving in to the exhaustion overwhelming him.

\- - - - -

He only regained consciousness 2 days later. This was deliberate, according to the medic who spoke to him shortly after he awoke, to give his body time to heal and recharge following the blood loss he suffered. His arm was in a splint and the only evidence of the fall that remained was a long, but neat line of stitches along his skin, which was quickly covered under a large adhesive bandage strip. Din couldn’t feel a single thing, nor move any of his fingers. At first, panic seized him with thoughts of damaged nerves or severed tendons, permanent disability, but he was reassured soon enough that, all things considered, he should make a nearly complete recovery.

The fracture had thankfully been set without needing any screws or plates, and the lack of sensation or movement was as deliberate as his imposed rest. He’d been administered a nerve block to spare him from any pain and it would wear off sometime the following morning. He could have another one then, if he felt that he couldn’t manage the pain yet. Admittedly, he'd forgotten what it was like to be a patient at a full-fledged Mandalorian infirmary and the degree of efficiency was a little impressive. In the end, he was released within just hours of waking up and, unsurprisingly, Nathan was there to walk with him back to their house.

Immediately, Din was ushered into the refresher to clean up, listening to the distant sounds of cooking in the kitchen as he got clumsily dressed afterwards. It was far easier to push and pull at the latches of his armour to take it off with one hand, than it was to secure everything to put it on again. So he was just about ready to give up, after an embarrassingly long time, when the blond knocked on the door, waiting outside for confirmation that it was okay to come in.

Since it was rather obvious that Din was in the midst of struggling with one of his pauldrons, Nathan offered to help. It was a thoughtful gesture that Din was happy to accept, but the blond only made it about halfway through securing that same pauldron before stopping and just pushing up on his toes to bring his forehead together with the helmet.

"Take it off, just for a second. Please."

It should probably shock him how little thought he gave to the action. Nathan's tone was very compelling so Din barely stopped to worry about him not keeping his eyes closed without a blindfold. Actually, he didn't really think about anything, not once he set the heavy metal down on the bed and was immediately enveloped in a desperate hug. His face was covered in kisses, everything from his chin to his eyelids, and it wasn't particularly elegant or smooth, but it made his knees weak all the same.

Eventually, he took hold of the blond's face with his good hand to stop the kissing frenzy and finally considered that at any second, Nathan could simply open his eyes. It was insane, but-- Din wasn't worried about him doing that at all. He just knew that the blond wouldn't dare and it made him feel kind of overwhelmed, in a really wonderful way. He brought their lips together in a kiss, so mindlessly that he closed his eyes as well and would be none the wiser if the other man did in fact take a peek at him. Din just wanted to get lost in the feeling of Nathan’s lips, and his tongue, the hands in his hair, the warm and pliant body plastered against his own. Every other thought just seemed to fade away.

If kissing was always so spectacular, it's a wonder people didn't just do it all the time, to be honest. As far as he was concerned, he'd be more than happy to do this for hours. But maybe Nathan was especially good at it. Not for the first time, he wondered what kind of experience the blond had, and how much of it. Not out of a misguided sense of jealousy, but rather-- there was likely a large disparity between them and Din didn't really know the finer points of pleasing someone, or even what he himself would find pleasurable. Maybe they could have a candid conversation about these things, under the comforting blanket of darkness. Or maybe they would just find themselves wordlessly kissing and touching their way to feeling good, together.

In the end, they didn't kiss for hours (unfortunately). They broke away after only a few minutes and Nathan excused himself to go check on dinner, letting Din guide him out of the room while keeping his eyes closed the entire way. It might be a little greedy but he hoped that they would sleep together again that night. And that the blindfold could make a return, maybe become a permanent fixture between them.

A more primal corner of his mind also hoped that they might finish what they'd started that fateful morning before being interrupted. But... maybe he was trying to take too much, too soon. On one hand, he knew people were supposed to take things slow, but on the other hand-- he felt like he'd been taking things slow for way too many _decades._

Nathan kind of drove him a little crazy. He was just, well, distractingly gorgeous, to say the least.

\- - - - -

All throughout dinner, the child was a stubborn nuisance, trying multiple times to walk across the table with a small outstretched hand firmly aimed at his arm. Whenever that little frown of concentration furrowed across the cute face, Nathan would grab him and bring him back into his lap before any kind of force-voodoo could occur. The kid looked so offended each and every time, it was equal parts amusing and concerning. Eventually Din had to take his plate and leave, in an effort to stop distracting the baby long enough for Nathan to actually succeed in feeding him.

Afterwards, they cleaned up in companionable silence and at some point, Din realised they'd never actually gotten around to putting on his armour. That was genuinely shocking actually, just the fact that he hadn't even noticed until then. He'd been so distracted with thoughts of them going to bed together after their kiss, he hadn't even stopped to remember the heavy Beskar left discarded on the bed. It wasn't disappointing, though. It didn't feel like a mistake, or like something he should be upset about. He was in his home, with his child and his partner. And he was _injured_. There wasn't anything dishonourable about not being in full armour that night and he was still wearing his helmet, of course. It was fine. He was happy. Comfortable. Both new feelings for him, but very welcome.

He didn't have to worry about the sleeping arrangements either, as it turned out. Nathan tucked the child in with him, then uttered a simple, "I'll be in the room waiting", and left. It was said with so much surety, like he hadn't even considered anything else, and it spoke volumes about how much they were both eager to stop wasting their time after arguably wasting it for months. It was just another measure of reassurance that reminded Din how very grateful he was to have Nathan's affections, even though he still didn't really know what he'd done to earn them.

When he came into the room, the blond was already lying down with the blindfold on (shirtless, which-- again, distracting, _very_ distracting). Din set about sealing the window closed, carefully tapering down the corners like he'd seen Nathan do the other night. Sure enough, once he switched off the light, it was oppressively dark in the room again and there was no amount of adjusting his eyes could do to remedy that. There was no need for the blindfold, at least for now, but he appreciated that it was only employed so that he could come in, set up the room and then shed his extra layers and helmet in private, especially given his one-handedness.

He was nervous, but only because he felt even more awkward than the first night. His injured arm was nothing but dead weight and it was likely to get in their way, something they had to be aware of at all times. It wouldn’t be wedged between them, at least, and Din couldn’t be sure if Nathan hadn’t planned it that way when choosing which side of the bed to take. Once his helmet was off and he got under the sheets, he felt the blond turn around. Bare arms reached towards him, one hand tangling in his hair to bring their foreheads together.

“Do you want to take the blindfold off?”

His voice didn’t tremble too much, which was a small mercy. He waited patiently for Nathan to pull away the thin fabric, feeling his anxiety begin to fade in the growing comfort of the dark. They kissed afterwards, only for a few moments and not particularly vigorously. Simply taking that time to shift around slowly until they found a cosy position with all their limbs accounted for and tangled in some way or another. It felt remarkably intimate and Din only wished that he could wrap his useless arm around the soft and inviting hips pressing into his, pull Nathan closer and hold him properly.

“I like this.”

The thought came to him unbidden and he’d unintentionally spoken the same words the blond had said that chaotic morning. It didn’t go unnoticed.

_“Which part?”_

“Hm, clever. _All of it_. You.”

“You never wish you hadn’t picked me up in that compound?”

“What do you think?”

All he got in response was another kiss, languid and bordering on filthy, so much so, it took him a moment to recover enough wits to speak again.

“Don't you ever wish you hadn’t been dragged into my mess?”

Din was fairly certain he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it anyway.

“I think… I never once regretted the way things turned out. And I’d do it all over again.”

“Oh, so you’d still run headfirst into a room just to get shot?”

He couldn’t help the tease, and it was entirely worth it just to feel Nathan’s laugh ring out between them.

“Well it got your attention, didn’t it?”

He couldn’t really argue with that. Besides, he didn’t want to.

He was being kissed again and it was definitely filthy now. Din didn’t even really comprehend what was happening, why each swipe of Nathan’s tongue felt like a brand and why it was igniting something so desperate within him. It was hot, messy. With his good arm trapped between them, he couldn’t really do anything except lean gradually backwards under the blond’s insistent weight, until Nathan was halfway to climbing on top of him.

It was an assault, but not one he was particularly interested in escaping from or even countering. He was more than happy to let himself be straddled and to feel the blond’s arousal settle against his own. Din didn’t know if there was a term for the slow and tantalizing motion of Nathan’s hips over him, but it was definitely something that could easily make him come in his pants in an embarrassingly short amount of time. He had no intention to stop it.

The friction was so deliciously constant, he revelled in it, unashamedly moaned into their kisses. Gasped out Nathan’s name when a tongue trailed down the column of his throat instead. A thin film of sweat gathered at the top of his lip and down his still covered stomach, making the fabric of his shirt cling to the fevered skin. Astonishingly, a hot flush was quickly creeping its way over his entire body, while the blond got him more than halfway to an orgasm without a single touch.

When Nathan finally lifted himself away, Din felt immediately chilled. He realised how dazed and unhinged he actually felt, which was only made worse by how equally frenzied the blond sounded.

“Can I-- Will you let me do something?”

“Anything, I don’t care.”

It wasn’t even a lie at that point, so he allowed himself to be carefully guided in the dark. It took a few minutes, but eventually his shirt was removed and Nathan pushed him down gently again, dropping a leisurely trail of kisses over the newly exposed skin.

“Next time, I’ll have to enjoy this with some light, when I’ve got you wearing nothing but that helmet.”

He didn’t even know what to think of those words. All his blood seemed to have evacuated south and when he felt a delicate hand palm him through the fabric of his pants, he was dangerously close to exploding. In fact, Din was so lost in the rush of arousal that his waistband was halfway down his hips before he could realise what was happening. The moan that escaped him when Nathan then mouthed at the head of his cock through the fabric of his underwear was embarrassingly loud.

Feeling bold and more than halfway to impatient, he struggled with his good hand to push down that last remaining layer of clothing low enough to free his erection. Brazenly, he grabbed a handful of the blond’s hair, trying to guide those gorgeous lips to take him in. It was the kind of primal, dirty thing he’d only had fleeting thoughts of on particularly lonely nights. He couldn’t really help the frantic desire burning through him now that it was actually happening in real life.

Thankfully, Nathan didn’t need any guidance and he also didn't waste any time doing just as Din wanted. He was so sensitive that the feeling nearly toppled him over the edge, even though he’d more than encouraged it and shouldn’t have been surprised when wet heat engulfed him. From the start, the blond settled into a consistently overwhelming pace with ease. Nathan was seemingly intent on drawing an orgasm out of him as quickly as possible. He couldn’t tell if he was responsible for some of the desperate sounds shared between them, but he could certainly feel it every time Nathan moaned and swallowed around him, taking his length all the way down the back of his throat. Or at least attempting to. It was unbelievably messy and the obscene wet noises filling the room were doing nothing to quell the heat growing inside him.

Whenever that clever tongue paid particular attention to the underside of his cock, Din would thrust upward a little, absolutely unable to help it. He could barely gather enough breath to apologize afterwards, not that the blond seemed to mind. His hands were trembling before long. He was close and it felt impossible to delay his climax for much longer, or else he might just fall apart-- pass out even-- if he didn't get relief from the insistent waves of ecstasy rolling over him. He tried to say something, a warning, but there was no guarantee that any of his words were actually coherent. Nathan didn’t slow down. If anything, he seemed to double his efforts. The sharp spike of pleasure was so incredibly strong, Din came nearly immediately after.

The blond barely swallowed the beginnings of his climax before trailing his tongue lower, letting both hands take over with steady strokes to coax out the remainder of his orgasm instead. Din almost wanted desperately to squirm away, to have some kind of outlet for the overload of sensation. Delighted shock paralysed him instead. His mouth hung open in a silent moan and he convulsed, shivered and struggled for breath while the feeling of Nathan’s tongue over the incredibly sensitive skin behind his sac either drew out his orgasm to incredible lengths, or gave him another right away. It seemed to last for an eternity. It's possible he made some rather undignified sounds in the meantime.

Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined that something could actually feel that good. He was dizzy for long minutes afterwards and only distantly aware of the blond shuffling around next to him, thoughtfully cleaning him and righting his pants again. Din knew that he should make an effort to repay the favour in some way, but his motor functions hadn’t quite returned yet. He felt a little guilty when Nathan eventually cozied up to his side like a cat, dropping kisses onto any available skin he could reach.

"Sorry, I just need--"

"Why are you apologizing?"

Honestly, even the first half-sentence had been a struggle to get out. He still felt breathless and out of sorts, wholly unused to such a rush of endorphins. He made a valiant effort to kiss the blond anyway, and voiced his thoughts after another moment's rest.

"I should-- you know."

"I don't. You'll have to use your words."

He was being teased, it was obvious, but he also felt irrationally shy at the prospect of saying what he needed to say. It was ridiculous, really. He'd just tasted his orgasm on Nathan's lips. They were well past the point of being coy with one another.

"Let me… reciprocate."

"I would love for you to _reciprocate_ , Din. But it will have to be for another time."

"Do you-- want something else?"

Nathan's laugh wasn't mean spirited and he showered Din's face in random kisses again before answering.

"I already came."

Oh. When did that even happen? And how did he miss it?

"When?!"

"Just before you. I-- I used my hand… sorry."

The blond actually sounded a little embarrassed. That was entirely uncalled for, of course. If Din wasn't so utterly spent, he could have probably gotten hard again just from the thought of Nathan frantically stroking himself and spilling over his hand while nearly gagging around Din's cock after a particularly desperate thrust of his hips. Instead of voicing any of this, though, he just kissed the blond. Tried to convey his deeply inappropriate thoughts with his lips instead.

When they broke apart, he heard the soft rustles of Nathan looking for the discarded blindfold. Din felt so drained, he was asleep before he'd even finished tying it back on.

\- - - - -

When he woke the next morning, the first thing he noticed was that he could feel his injured arm, snugly fit into the wooden splint around it. He could also move his fingers and.. there was a warm weight resting against them. _The baby_. Dread seized him. Sure enough, when he pulled away the adhesive strip, there were no stitches left. He unstrapped the splint next, and rotated his wrist experimentally, testing the limits of his ligaments and bones. It only confirmed what he had immediately suspected: It was healed. Completely healed. There wasn't even a whisper of pain, and evidently no scar. Like nothing had ever happened.

When he nudged a soft ear gently, big eyes fluttered open. It was a relief to know that it hadn't completely knocked out the kid for hours, or even days on end, like it usually did. When small hands reached up and the little gremlin started crowding into his chest, he didn't have it in him to push him away. He let the baby snuggle up to his favourite spot under his chin, while Nathan was tucked around him too, beginning to stir into wakefulness.

Despite the growing morning heat in the room, Din had never felt more comfortable.

"Please tell me the kid is not in bed with us right now."

"Can't do that, sorry. He force-healed my arm while we were sleeping too."

"Oh you're _kidding_."

"Nope."

This time, Nathan did choke mid laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent way too many days proof-reading this chapter high on cold medicine. Let me know what you thought of it, if you'd like to.
> 
> also... as if I wasn't gonna have the bébé heal Din! he needs both his arms to uh... enjoy some quality time with Nathan in the next chapter... *eyes emoji*


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din shares an unexpectedly candid conversation with an unlikely friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay okay. first of all, I totally lied about this chapter coming out quicker than the last, I know. busy week at work and with life in general, sorry.  
> plus, I also went back and made some edits to previous chapters. in fact, you could say that I 'polished' them up. get it? get it?! (sorry).
> 
> secondly... here's the thing, okay, hear me out --- I had a whole plan for this chapter BUT... the word count totally got away from me and I only got through TWO of my bullet points.  
> so, my originally planned chapter is now being split into two. which, I think you'll find, is actually a positive thing... more reading... yay?  
> I don't know just... yeah, hope you enjoy this one. 
> 
> and also, a massive thank you for the positive responses to the last one <3

**Chapter 12 - Relationship**

**Relationship** ( _noun_ ): the way in which two or more people are connected.

\- - - - -

“Are you busy?"

Din was obviously not busy, doing nothing but swaying gently in a hammock outside their house, while the child was on his tummy playing with a stuffed toy. 

He'd actually been dangerously close to taking a nap, but since Nathan looked like he'd accidentally kicked a puppy, he sobered up pretty quickly. Understandably concerned now, he sat up straighter, scooting over and inviting the blond to sit down next to him before handing over the kid who was already reaching out for a hug from the newcomer.

"I have something I need to tell you. I-- I saw you."

"Saw me what?" 

"I saw you without the helmet. This morning." 

It probably should have felt like a sucker punch, like the rug being pulled out from under him, but it didn't. It was somewhat of a shock, sure, and he was confused as to how it even happened, but he had to focus on remaining calm and on not coming across like he was consumed with rage or something. He was disappointed, but not towards Nathan. Just disappointed that it hadn't happened on his terms, or with the proper union in place for it to be allowed under the creed.

"... Okay. How?" 

"I drank way too much of that weird local juice during breakfast and I was bursting and I didn't realize you were coming out of the refresher at that exact moment-- I mean, I thought you'd finished showering _way_ before that and I didn't actually see much and I--"

"Nathan. Stop. And breathe. How much did you see?" 

The blond was probably at risk of suffocating the baby in an anxious hug but Din felt it best not to intervene.

"Not much, I promise. I would tell you if I had, I would. You were almost halfway to your room already and I saw-- well, I saw the back of your head. Your hair, really. Maybe a little bit of your ears, through the curls, you know. But I basically turned right back around, I promise. I didn't watch you walk away or anything. I ran out of the house, actually." 

"I noticed."

"Noticed what?"

"That you left the house. But not _when_ or _why_ you did it. I was wondering where you've been all morning."

"Oh, well-- I've been hiding. Sorry." 

There was no way to know if the child was aware of the gravity of the conversation taking place between them. Sometimes, it definitely seemed like he was able to read moods and react accordingly, but other times, like just then, he seemed to be blissfully ignorant and was making a valiant effort to grab Nathan's ear to pull at it. 

It was so cute that it was actually distracting, especially given the relief that Din was feeling. At the end of the day, the blond hadn't seen his face and that mattered more than anything else. It meant that there hadn't been a complete breach of the creed and he was saved from having to consider the consequences of dishonourably revealing himself to another person, even unintentionally.

"Okay. It's fine. You didn’t see my actual face. You know that's what really matters. So-- let's just be more careful from now on. I probably shouldn't have been walking around unguarded anyway. We're sharing this home, I need to be a little more considerate, sorry."

Nathan nodded, but wasn’t looking any less guilty, despite the distinct lack of kicked puppies. At least the child was no longer being held in a vice-like grip though, so that was progress. 

"Okay. Well... you have nice hair." 

He hoped an exaggerated head tilt conveyed the unimpressed raise of his eyebrows behind the cover of the helmet. If the blond's response was anything to go by, he must have succeeded. 

"Sorry. Should I just act like I didn't see anything?" 

Good question. It wasn't really something he'd ever considered before.

"I don't know. I think… I don’t mind. But I wouldn't say something like that in front of someone else." 

"Yeah, no. Got it." 

"You didn't have to hide, you know. What did you think was going to happen?" 

The kid was growing bored of his attempts to elicit a reaction from Nathan, wiggling back into Din's lap and cooing happily when he started brushing a gloved finger over the big ears. It was a good way to draw out the last remnants of tension from their conversation and it gave him an excuse to look away, perhaps making the blond feel less scrutinized too.

"I have no idea. I didn't know how to feel." 

"We would have just-- dealt with it, if you had actually seen my face." 

"How?"

"Some way or another, I don't know. Point is-- don't be afraid of me, please."

"I wasn't afraid of you. Just... afraid of losing you. Of making a mistake I couldn't take back."

"I can pretty much guarantee that you wouldn't lose me over something like that." 

It felt like a good time to nudge his helmet against Nathan's forehead, so he did, and he finally got a smile out of the blond in return.

"Okay. I'll stop panicking then. Can I ask you something unrelated?"

"Sure." 

"How do you say 'dad' in your language?" 

Well that was certainly _unrelated_ , and completely unexpected.

"Why?" 

"I just thought I might try to teach the kid some words. How to say your name, and call you 'dad' maybe. If it’s not some big complicated word, you know."

" _Buir_." 

" _Buir_ , right _._ I think that’s easy enough _._ "

It seemed that Nathan wasn't aware, or maybe wasn't confident enough to admit that the child loved him just as much as he loved Din. In fact, it was unfair to say that he was a ‘father’ to the kid and then not afford the same title to the blond as well. Ever since Din rescued the little gremlin (from the danger he’d put him in to begin with), Nathan had been with them every single step of the way and arguably played an equal (if not larger) role in taking care of the baby. Most of the time, it was Nathan who bathed the child, changed diapers and fed him. Not to mention, a lot of their domestic chores were done by him too, like the laundry, cooking, and cleaning.

It's not that Din was a slacker who didn't want to pull his weight around the house, the blond was just very insistent on taking care of those things. Probably out of some misguided idea that he needed to repay Din for saving his life, or for allowing him to stay on the ship. Nathan was incredibly stubborn and as a result of his domestic tenacity, he’d built a solid bond with the kid along the way.

"What's he going to call you?" 

"I don't know. 'Nathan' might be one too many weird syllables for now."

"Yeah. I think 'dad' is best, and I can be ' _buir_ ' instead.”

It’s possible that Din had never seen the blond blush quite so profusely. Even the child seemed to notice, staring curiously at him.

"Din… I didn't mean to insinuate that I would-- I mean, I'm not expecting--"

"I know you're not. I'm insinuating on your behalf. That's what _I’m_ expecting. This kid is absolutely in love with you, it's fine for you to own that without feeling like you're stepping on my toes or something. I've only survived this long with him because of you."

"But he's-- yours." 

"Nathan, until you gave him his first bath, I didn't even know that he was a _he_. I have as much claim to him as you do. We both take care of him, we both love him. And in exchange, he puts up with our nonsense, as you like to say. So it seems like a pretty straightforward hierarchy to me." 

"It's just _your_ nonsense that needs putting up with." 

It was a valiant effort and it nearly got a chuckle out of him, but Din could see through the sarcasm easily. He'd had months now to study Nathan's reactions and the blond was scrambling, trying to give himself time to reign it in, conceal his feelings and recover from the bright red flush spreading across his cheeks.

"You're loved, Nathan. You _belong_ , you’re appreciated. And not just by him. I appreciate you too, I want you by my side and I'm not going to kick you out for making mistakes. So yes, I want you to teach him words and I want him to know how to call you 'dad'. Because that's what you've been and I think that's what you want to keep being for him."

The kid was squished between them as Din got enveloped in a spontaneous hug, but he didn’t seem to mind, keeping quiet and making no move to dislodge himself, even as Nathan squeezed a little tighter before letting go. 

"I think we should go inside for a second, so you can get that Beskar bucket off your head and I can give you a kiss. Please?" 

It still felt as difficult as a steep uphill climb whenever Din needed to get something like that off his chest, but it did grow easier each time. Especially when he was rewarded with these kinds of reactions.

He’d never felt like he had a way with words, but maybe he wasn’t quite so hopeless after all. Or maybe Nathan’s bar was set a little low. Either way, Din was trying his best to talk things out more often, and maybe he wasn't doing a bad job of it.

\- - - - -

For someone who felt like he'd spent most of his life alone, nowadays it was remarkable to note that Din did actually appreciate and could recognize some of the real sincere connections that he’d made during his travels.

Cara was one such connection. Unexpected and borne out of unusual circumstances, their friendship had actually developed with a strong foundation on Sorgan. It was based entirely on having to trust a complete stranger with your life on the frontlines of what had essentially been a battle. That was the kind of situation that tended to form long lasting bonds between people and they were no exception.

As soon as they'd gotten settled in the village, Din had sent her a simple _we’re alive and here’s where we are_ message to keep her updated, which had become a habit for them as of late. He wasn’t expecting anything in return, except a reply with her whereabouts as well. So when the imposing shock trooper showed up at their settlement shortly after lunch that day, it was a very pleasant surprise indeed. Even the kid seemed happy to see her, which probably meant that he was genuinely done feeling guilty for the force-choking mishap on their last mission together.

Predictably, Nathan offered to cook a special dinner that night and Din had every intention to help, as soon as he was done preparing the spare room for their guest. It was actually his original room not a ‘spare’, but since they (hopefully) seemed likely to share Nathan’s bed from now on, it was technically free to use once he relocated the crib where the child slept.

With that done, he walked into the kitchen to find Cara and the blond in the midst of a hushed conversation. The twin looks he received very much conveyed the sentiment of: _please go away, we’re definitely talking about you_. Naturally, when faced with that, he thought it best to make himself scarce and leave them to it. Nathan would call for him if he needed help and he’d rather not get in the way of anything, just in case the blond had been feeling like he needed to talk to someone about them.

For his part, Din did actually kind of feel like he could use someone to talk with. He was entirely new to ‘relationships’ and he had some questions, some doubts, that he’d like to air out. Plus, maybe he also just wanted to be able to tell someone about how he was feeling, or maybe he could shout it out from atop a really high tree, to make sure everyone knew that he, Din Djarin, certified loner, was in fact _not_ alone anymore. And that he’d kissed someone now, and he even… well, not to be improper, but he even got his first blowjob.

Yes, he felt like a teenager. He was just so unreasonably pleased with himself and ridiculously giddy. It didn’t even seem real, but instead like it was just a dream he was going to wake from soon.

He was so lost in his reverie, while methodically cleaning his weapons on their small front porch, that he nearly dropped a scope lens when the shock trooper suddenly sat down next to him.

“So, you finally noticed what was right in front of you all along, huh?”

He was still a little shocked that she’d managed to be so quiet in her approach, so he took some time to gather his bearings and settle down on his seat comfortably again before replying.

“What do you mean?”

All he got in response was a scoff and an incredulous look.

“I know you’re talking about Nathan. I just don’t know what ‘all along’ is supposed to mean.”

“Oh please, that boy was tripping over his feelings for you all the way back on Sorgan, when we first met. It was painfully obvious.”

Was it? Even back then? 

To be fair, Nathan and he hadn’t really spoken about their 'feelings' or when those had started. Perhaps it might be an important conversation to have. Then again… he’d watched the blond at the cantina and technically been _interested_ for years. And that was a rather significant thing to admit.

“I wasn’t… aware.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Hm. It was a recent development.”

“Your feelings?”

“No. Me noticing his.”

“And when did you notice your own?”

“… I used to watch him, back on Nevarro, at the cantina. He usually stared at me when he thought I wasn’t looking.”

“Wait-- how far back are we talking then?”

“Not sure. Years. But that was just-- you know, an attractive stranger at the bar. Not anything real. Or significant. I guess.”

Except for the fact that he never really noticed attractive strangers. Only that one blond, in that one cantina, on that one planet, who always watched him from afar.

“I think that’s _real_ enough. And probably saved his life.”

That was a rather good point, actually. An element of familiarity and curiosity definitely played a part in his decision to take Nathan with him that fateful night at the compound. Had it been a complete stranger, Din wouldn’t have been so quick to trust in his assessment that the blond wasn’t affiliated with the Empire, or some other particularly nefarious faction.

“Maybe.”

“Are you not comfortable talking about this?”

He hadn’t meant for his reply to be so short, but he was still mulling over his memories of that unexpected rescue and trying to envision a parallel universe where he hadn’t saved Nathan that day. It seemed to him like a bleak alternate reality, to be honest.

“No, sorry. I mean-- yes, I am comfortable. I was just-- reminiscing.”

“Right. So… are you going to ask me to spill the beans about what he told me?”

“I think I’d rather respect his privacy.”

Although… curiosity had been burning rather insidiously through him. Even more so now, with this confirmation that they really had been talking about him in the kitchen.

"Oh, so chivalrous. Good. Talk to me then, tell me _your_ secrets."

“I don’t have any to tell.”

Despite feeling like he did want to talk to someone, now that he was presented with an opportunity he was feeling inexplicably shy.

"Suit yourself. Can I be nosy though?"

"Sure…"

"How was last night?"

 _Nosy_ seemed like an understatement now. _Blunt_ might be more fitting.

"Why do you ask?" 

"That might be telling Nathan's secrets, so maybe I shouldn't divulge my motives."

… Did Nathan have some reservations about yesterday? A million thoughts raced through him then, coming up with a play-by-play analysis of the night and the way it had progressed. The blond led the charge, and with the exception of Din pushing his own underwear down, he hadn't really taken any other initiative, right? Had he been selfish? He did offer to reciprocate, it was Nathan who declined.

So what did he do wrong?

"Din, are you having a stroke? I can't tell if you're still breathing."

The trooper looked casually amused, definitely not like someone who was about to drop some uncomfortable truths on him, but it didn't necessarily ease his panic.

"I thought last night was... spectacular. Is that-- not how he feels?"

" _Spectacular--_ wow, you're so whipped, congrats. And it's definitely how he feels. He's just worried that it was a little 'too much too soon' for you." 

Their night had been unexpected, sure, but Din kind of had the time of his life, really. He'd clearly been a willing participant the whole evening and if Nathan wanted reassurance… why hadn't he just talked to him about it?

Maybe it was their earlier incident, with the helmet (or lack thereof), that had thrown the blond off balance. Perhaps in the aftermath of that and avoiding Din all morning, he'd felt like he didn't know how to approach the subject and confided in Cara instead.

For the first time, he realised that he didn't know much about Nathan's personal relationships before he'd taken him away from Nevarro. In fact, he didn't know anything except that the blond had lost his parents at a young age. Did he have friends? It was so odd to think that Din had no idea and it kind of shocked him to admit that it hadn't even occurred to him to ask. Now he wanted to know if maybe Nathan was like him, in the sense that he wasn't used to having anyone to 'confide' in. Or maybe he had no trouble opening up to others and felt naturally comfortable doing so.

Making a mental note to add that to the list of topics they should talk about, he finally remembered that he hadn't replied yet and silence had dragged on for a while.

"It was fine. It didn't feel rushed, just… spontaneous." And an incredible turn-on in every conceivable way, especially for someone like him who wasn't used to being so openly _wanted_ by someone else.

"Alright. I'll let you tell him that yourself then."

"Assuming he talks to me about it."

"I'm sure he will." 

She reached over to pry the tools from his hands and seemed to hold her next words until she was reasonably sure that he was giving her his full attention. He had been singularly attentive already, but he could appreciate that the helmet made it hard to know that.

"I feel the need to point out that I didn't bring this up for his sake. I think you're not understanding that I'm just checking up on _you_. If you do think you guys are moving along too quickly, you should put your foot down and be honest with him. I'm not saying that's how you feel, I'm just making that clear. There's nothing wrong with being inexperienced, you know. So I just wanted to make sure you're not keeping it to yourself because you're embarrassed or something."

His first instinct was to counter her words with sarcasm, trying to give himself time to deal with the unfamiliar emotions sweeping over him. Which, funny enough, was rather reminiscent of Nathan's own tactics in these situations.

"Who says I'm inexperienced?" 

All she gave him in return was a very unimpressed look and it got her message across with crystal clarity. He still wasn't accustomed to being so candid, or to having people (who weren’t Nathan) that actually cared about his real personal life outside of covert matters. He didn't really know what to say when confronted so bluntly. In the end, simple honesty seemed like the best option.

"... It's not going too fast. It's good. I'm-- happy. I feel like a teenager, actually."

"I bet you do, I just wanted to make sure. And I'm happy for you, by the way. I'm glad you pulled your head out of the sand long enough to acknowledge that you have _feelings_ like the rest of us. And that they don't have to be a secret. It's good for you, you know." 

"I guess." 

Cara snorted out a half laugh, somehow elegantly, and appraised him with obvious mischievous intent, keen to lighten the mood.

"Wow. The man's never been happier, but all he says is _I guess_. You're a piece of work, Djarin. I'd say you're hard to ‘ _please_ ’, but now I do know that's not true."

"What!?" 

The question was voiced several octaves higher than how he normally spoke and it sent the trooper into a fit of laughter, clearly having received the reaction that she was aiming for. 

"Oh I wish I could see your face. Relax, he didn't kiss and tell any juicy details. Not for lack of trying though, trust me. I was only _joking_ , but did I hit a nerve? Talk to me, come on, give me some gossip." 

"I'm good, thanks." 

"You guys are no fun, seriously. And before you judge me, I have no spicy details of my own to tell, so I was hoping to live vicariously through you. You're both killing my buzz." 

It was his turn to laugh, embarrassment quickly dissolving into amusement and comfortable comradery. It felt easy to converse like this and he could get used to it, to sharing and trusting. He'd been doing a whole lot of 'trusting' with Nathan, of course. They'd had some deeply personal conversations and there was a level of intimacy and familiarity that came naturally just by way of living together and sharing their everyday lives with one another. But this didn't feel the same, this was a different kind of 'personal' and a different kind of 'sharing'. Din liked it though, and he could do with more of it. 

"Sorry to disappoint." He finally replied, before sobering up a little. "Can I ask a question, though?" 

"You mean-- a serious question?" When he nodded, the mood between them took on a different kind of quality. Teasing giving way to sincere and open-minded interest. "Sure, anything."

Once more, he was presented with an opportunity to be honest with her and even though there was still a small measure of shyness tightening in his chest, it felt easier to push through it this time.

"Do you think the helmet bothers him?"

"Well… Think about the roles being reversed. He can see you, but you can't see him. Would it bother you?" 

"Yes but-- it's tradition. We abide by a creed, this is a way of life."

"I know that. Does he?" 

"Of course." Better than most, even.

"Doesn't that answer the question then?"

No… yes. Maybe. He knew that Nathan respected the rules and wouldn't ever pressure him to break them, or go behind his back to do so either. After all, that morning was proof enough that the blond was genuinely committed to accommodating that facet of their relationship. But just because he accepted it, didn't mean he was happy about it.

"There's a difference between understanding the reasons why and having to put up with them." 

"He hardly _puts up_ with you. He's crazy about you. Besides, he thinks the whole armour thing is super sexy. I'm pretty sure that boy has a Mandalorian kink so I can't see how it's getting in the way of anything." 

Conceptually, he was aware that Nathan appreciated his armour. But he thought it was purely from a craftsmanship point of view so, if true… this was new information for him. He was speechless, quite literally stunned into silence. Had he simply failed to notice it? 

"Oh you didn't know that, did you?"

"... No." 

"Of course not, yeah, what was I thinking? You're so _blind_ , Din, I'm actually worried. Get it checked out, I'm serious."

"I'm _new_ to this, you know. No one's ever really-- I mean, I don't know how to handle-- I just don't notice these things. Sorry." 

"... Why are you apologizing?"

"I don't know... Reflex."

Instead of firing back with sarcasm, trying to offload emotions and conceal them behind bravado, he felt like a turtle slowly retreating back into its safe shell. It was not his usual M.O. but vulnerability was a tough opponent, and sorting through the feeling of being inadequate was not an easy thing to do. In fact, it was more like being in a swamp, struggling to rise above the sludge trying to bring you down, and keep you trapped within it.

To her credit, Cara looked genuinely apologetic, even though she clearly hadn't meant to pass any real negative judgement about him, or his experience.

"I didn't mean to-- push any buttons, sorry. Joke went too far." 

"It's fine. I'm just-- not sure if I'm any good at being with someone. And there's already plenty of things working against me, making it hard to be with me, I guess." 

He pointed at his helmet to illustrate his point.

"Din… does it seem like he's not happy?" 

"No." At least he didn't think so, but hey, he could be completely oblivious to that as well! He was clearly blind towards a lot of other things. "But maybe I'm not seeing it." 

"Okay, that's not what I was getting at. You're seeing everything just fine, knock it off. He's happy. He's properly besotted, trust me. He loves the helmet and he loves the armour and he loves your strange little child. _And_ your people, and this house, even though-- he told me you almost died a couple days ago?! Falling off a bridge!? Anyway, we’ll talk about that later, my point is-- stop overthinking and worrying about not being _good_. He's had months now to decide that you're not worth it and he's still sticking around. So just-- keep that in mind. And please-- I'm so very serious when I say he loves the armour. Talk to him about it. Trust me."

He still felt an unreasonable urge to apologize for his outburst, like he was just burdening her with his problems and being a nuisance. That wasn’t how she felt, of course, but a part of him still clung on to that insecurity. He tried to change the subject instead.

“I didn’t almost _die_ , he’s being dramati--”

“He worries and he _cares_.”

“Yes, well-- I know. I’ll talk to him… thanks.”

“You’re welcome. But do tell me how you managed to nearly fall to your death, please.”

Admitting defeat, Din still furtively tried to downplay his accident. When Nathan joined them mid-conversation he was not amused, quickly setting the record straight-- and then entertaining Cara by telling her about the child’s attempts to heal his arm and how they’d woken up to find that he’d just done it while they slept.

Conversation between them flowed easily, without any pretence or awkwardness. It was a nice, pleasantly warm afternoon and they stayed outside watching the slow descent of the sun until dinner was ready.

Nathan sat on his lap the entire time, which was simply just wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sincerest apologies to the people who thought we were gonna get some more sexy times this chapter (on account of me saying that Din needed both his arms for 'some quality time' with Nathan...)  
> to be fair though - I thought so too! it was my original plan, like I said.  
> next chapter tho... *eyes emoji for real*


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan gets a haircut and Cara gets a droid. Not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please read the author's note at the end for information about the next update. thank you <3

**Chapter 13 - Formality**

Formality ( _noun_ ): (1) the rigid observance of convention or etiquette. (2) a thing that is done simply to comply with convention, regulations, or custom.

\- - - - -

Their stay on Endor looked to become permanent (or at the very least, decidedly long-term), but Din was still warming up to the idea of settling down.

He was used to going from bounty to bounty, planet to planet, never really stopping to unwind. But now, with the exception of his accident on the bridge, his life hadn’t been threatened in weeks and he hadn’t even gotten into a fight with anyone for much longer than that.

Bizarrely, credits also became a concept that he never thought of anymore. They left Nevarro with all of Nathan’s savings and they still had leftover credits from Ran’s job, but they didn’t really have any use for them. Not on the settlement at least, where everything was grown and handmade, then shared or bartered for.

His ship was parked in a valley not far from the village, covered and left secured but otherwise abandoned. Coming back to it that morning felt extremely nostalgic, and deeply unsettling. It's not like he resented his new life (quite the opposite). He wasn’t restless either. He didn't long for a change. But... he didn't feel entirely comfortable either.

He was undeniably happy, though. Maybe that was the main contributing factor to this strange state of mind he was in. Being so _happy_ , so _carefree_... just two words that had never been used to describe Din.

Maybe it was a red herring.

Besides, if he had to psycho-analyse himself he’d say that he was actually a little afraid too. Just another foreign and uneasy feeling for him to come to terms with. He'd never had anything to lose. That was just a fact. And he was fine with that-- had _been_ fine with that-- with simply admiring the greener grass on the other side of the fence but never coveting it, or even resenting his neighbour for having it, even though his own patch of garden was a barren wasteland with no promise of growth or even a future. Or it had been. Not anymore. Now he’d been handed a deal in life that seemed far too good to be true on an almost daily basis. Part of him couldn't really accept it. Part of him was frantically afraid of losing it.

Again, this was strange. Made him feel weirdly uncomfortable. He simply couldn’t shake the disturbed feeling that something insidious was right around the corner, even though he knew there was no immediate threat and no deadline looming over them. Nothing that signalled an end to the peace that they’d quite literally fought for.

Being back on the ship seemed to amplify his anxiety in a way Din wasn’t really prepared for. It was suffocating him.

"Is this a BB unit?!" Cara's voice successfully derailed what was starting to feel like a mild panic attack.

He had his emotions in check by the time she strolled into the cargo bay, carrying a crane which did in fact hold the pieces of a decommissioned BB-4 droid.

"It's a glorified trash can. I won it in a game of Sabacc."

He'd finally returned to the ship to round up any items of value that got left behind when they arrived. Helpfully, Nathan had made a straightforward list of things that he should bring back, but Cara (who had offered to help) was snooping around and seemingly uncovering a treasure trove of trinkets and forgotten relics that he'd buried in odd spots around the vessel.

Basically, what was meant to be a relatively quick trip had now dragged on past lunch time and he was thankful that he'd taken some food with him for the journey. He'd already eaten a handful of snacks alone, but he had enough for both of them and it was probably time for the trooper to be feeling hungry too.

“Should we load up and eat before we go? Or have you not finished raiding my private property yet?”

There was no real bite to his words and Cara simply shrugged him off anyway, clearly pleased with herself for discovering the droid. She walked away again, muttering to the BB unit about how she was going to fix it up, that it needn't be afraid of the big bad Mandalorian hurting it anymore. Din chose to ignore her in favour of double checking that he had everything on Nathan's list.

Before long, they packed up the speeder bikes and sat down on the cargo ramp so she could eat. Din’s discomforting mood hadn’t made a return, so he was distractedly watching a pair of strange small creatures making a nest on a nearby tree when she interrupted their companionable silence.

“I have a question about your helmet, but I’m not sure if it’s-- insensitive or rude, for me to ask you.”

“I'm sure it's not." He could easily guess what the question was going to be. "Go for it."

“Do you ever take it off for anyone? I mean... like, who actually gets to see you?”

Yup. As a Mandalorian, he'd lost track of how often he'd been asked variations of 'do you ever take it off?' and yet... it surprised him to realise that Nathan had never approached the subject. It made him wonder if the blond was already aware of the answer, or if he felt like this was something that he shouldn’t bring up with Din for fear of making him feel pressured about wearing the helmet. Perhaps both.

“Family is okay. Parents, children, siblings. Gets a little dicey with what you would call 'in-laws'. Or even cousins, nephews, uncles. I think the rule of thumb is immediate family." He refrains from pointing out that he has no family, immediate or otherwise. Doesn't feel the need to explain why he's not 100% sure of every clause or possible loophole in the scriptures. He's sure Cara is astute enough to read between the lines. "There's also some formalities, rituals, for partners. We call it a _riduurok_. It's like a marriage, I guess. And then partners can see us too.”

“Is it like-- legally binding? Can you get divorced? Or is it not that formal?”

“In a sense, yes it is legally binding. It's very formal, or at least incredibly significant for us. And it can technically be dissolved.”

“Can you get remarried if it doesn't work out? Or is it like ‘one and done’, even if you lose your partner?”

“Generally ‘one and done’, I suppose." He echoed her figure of speech but couldn't help feeling that it wasn't nearly adequate enough to surmise the meaning of the ritual. How do you explain a _love bond_ without sounding cliché? How do you make someone understand that it's so much more than the four sentences uttered to form it? Or that you shouldn't even consider the circumstances needed to break it? Would foreigners ever really grasp the significance? Would Nathan?

For lack of anything better to say, he settled for a simple truth. "I’ve never seen a 'divorce', so to speak."

He’d seen couples separate and live apart, but never call for a declaration of _shuk'la riduurok._ Literally translated, that meant 'a broken love'. It was so much more than that, though. Nothing akin to a _divorce_. He didn't know how to explain it beyond saying that forming a union was much too sacred to them and they were rarely forsaken, even after long separations.

“Are you going to _riduurok_ Nathan?”

“It’s not a verb so that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah okay. Answer the question, smart-ass.”

He knew their traditions were considered unusual. For Nathan, the thought of a life-long union at this stage would perhaps come across as way too soon. They hadn’t even had sex yet and, strictly speaking, it was actually traditional for Mandalorians to remain celibate until forming a _riduurok_.

Not that Din was remotely interested in upholding that tradition, though. His chastity was more due to his self-imposed secluded lifestyle than because of any faithful adherence to a custom that wasn’t practical-- especially now that their numbers were greatly reduced. Mandalorians as a whole had become more lenient with that particular belief in recent years.

“Too soon to ask that?”

His contemplative silence had endured for far too long and Cara was now staring at him, somewhat concerned.

“For Nathan it probably is, yes.”

“I’m not asking Nathan, I'm asking you.” 

“I never really thought I’d have a partner and I’m certainly not thinking ahead to having one after him.”

It wasn't the most eloquent of answers but he hoped that she would leave it at that. It felt so dangerous, so _reckless_ , to say anything more. He didn't want to open himself up for rejection, to have it close this door and leave him standing on the other side. 

Just when had he become so afraid of being alone?

As always, Cara was incredibly persistent. “Unpack that for me, then say it plainly.”

“I would be amenable to bonding with him, yes.” 

“You’re... _amenable_. To marrying the man you’re completely in love with?”

Hopelessly amused, despite being the butt of the joke, he watched patiently while she feigned a series of exaggerated reactions and facial expressions before delivering her closing statement. “That’s just-- I mean _, wow_ , romance is _not_ dead. Speaking of, have you told him that?”

“... About forming a union!?"

“ _No_ , about being in love with him.”

Well... Nathan hadn’t told him that _he_ was in love and a small corner of his mind felt weary about being the first one to utter anything of the sort. Din had never felt this way. He was in the clichéd position of not being sure what love is supposed to feel like but making a pretty good guess that it was something along the lines of what he was feeling.

But... to think that he might be wrong, or might even be misjudging the strength of the blond’s feelings towards him-- it was enough to almost bring about another panic attack. He didn’t even reply, fairly certain that Cara already knew the answer anyway. Instead, he started cleaning up her scraps and made to raise the cargo ramp once she followed suit.

Still, she wasn’t done poking into his relationship just yet. Although in this case, she was more than entitled to her next observations. “I think you two should go on a date. You aren't subtle, to be honest. It’s like living in a house with two horny teenagers-- and before you try to deny it, I see the way he looks at you and I would confidently bet that the sentiment is mutual behind that helmet. So let me watch over the kid for a day, he can sleep in my room. That should give you plenty of time alone."

The accompanying wiggling eyebrows made it clear that she knew exactly what they would get up to without the child in their room. Thankfully, his blush was well hidden by his helmet. Even after a few moments, he was too flustered to do much besides nod and express a cursory "thank you" in acceptance.

It's true that while she was staying with them the baby’s crib had been relocated to their room. Din felt that it was hardly proper etiquette to impose having a child sleeping in with a guest, and it wasn’t like they could put the crib anywhere else-- not when the bedrooms were the only areas of the cabin afforded the luxury of a heating system and nights on the forest moon continued to be incredibly cold.

Naturally, given the kid's peculiar intellect and abilities, there was no way that they were going to be doing anything of a ‘sexual nature’ with the little gremlin in the room. No matter how ‘asleep’ he might be, or how dark it was. So, for the past three evenings, they had just quietly slipped into bed together, shared a few quick kisses and then resigned themselves to an early night.

He wasn’t, of course, going to turn down a chance to have a whole day and night to themselves. And he was reasonably sure that Nathan would be just as happy to cash in on the offer too.

\- - - - -

He hadn’t come up with a suitable date idea by the time they returned to the treehouse and his thoughts were immediately derailed upon spotting Nathan in their room-- trying to install a net on the window so they could open it for some breeze without worrying about uninvited guests crawling or flying in.

Not only was the blond shirtless, but he'd also apparently gotten himself a buzz cut sometime during his absence. He looked, unsurprisingly, nothing short of breathtaking. The kid was in the room as well (seemingly being unhelpful by levitating random tools at odd intervals), and it took a moment for either of them to notice Din leaning against the doorway.

“Oh, look who’s home.” Nathan’s casual tone and the nonchalant way he picked up the child and brought him to Din did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was already blushing, obviously shy to unveil his new hair. “How was the trip?”

“… Uneventful.” He took the kid from Nathan’s arms and then set it down on the ground again, after a brief hug, watching it totter towards the hallway presumably in search of Cara (or maybe just to helpfully and knowingly make himself scarce). “You look… really nice.”

“You think so?”

“Very much. Just--” Feeling uncharacteristically bold, he decided to throw caution somewhat to the wind. “Come here. Come with me.”

To his credit, Nathan didn’t even resist as he was suddenly dragged out of the room and into the refresher. Din could hear Cara tinkering around in the kitchen, but he didn’t really stop to worry about being caught, or even to wonder about how it might look for them to disappear into the refresher together. Honestly, it just felt like the most private (and soundproof) place they could retreat to in the whole house during the day, so he’d made the decision before he could second-guess it. Besides, they were adults. Cara knew. This simply gave her carte blanche to tease them relentlessly for having poor impulse control, which was a toll Din was willing to pay.

“Din-- what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Nathan sounded flustered but not really alarmed, so he didn’t give himself time to back down. “I’m more than okay. Close your eyes.”

It felt natural by now to trust the blond and just remove his helmet without any concern. Nathan was quick to catch on, Din barely spared a second to wait or worry about it.

“So… you _really_ like the hair, I take it?” In lieu of a response, he brought their lips together in a rushed kiss. It felt like drinking from an overflowing well after being lost in the deserts of N'zoth (Din knew this from experience, he wasn't just waxing poetic).

He started clumsily pulling at the straps of his armour too, but Nathan’s hands stopped him. ”Leave it on.”

Head flooding with arousal, he had to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding. “What?”

“Leave the armour on-- it’s really hot. Please?”

What could you even say in response to that? A flush made its way across his face as he felt equal parts humbled and turned on. Truthfully, he’d do whatever Nathan wanted, and he tried to convey as much, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was. Nevertheless, soft lips were back on his soon enough, insistent and confident, and it was both comfortingly familiar already, and intensely sensual.

Exploratory hands circled his waist next, deftly unclipping his utility belt. It slipped from the blond’s grasp immediately after. The clatter of it hitting the ground interrupted their kiss, startling Din enough to make him open his eyes. He found that Nathan’s were still closed, bottom lip shyly trapped between his teeth.

“… Sorry.” Somewhat hesitantly, soft kisses landed on the side of his throat and upwards towards his ear briefly, before trailing back down so that the blond’s face was effectively tucked into the crook of his neck. “I don’t know if I can keep my eyes closed the whole time, I’ll just-- hide away like this, okay?”

They couldn’t kiss, but it was definitely okay anyway and he reached a hand up to caress Nathan's velvety new hair in a way that was hopefully reassuring, just for a moment.

After that, things were especially ‘okay’ when he felt clever fingers undoing the fastenings on his pants and slip in to stroke the whole length of him as it stiffened under the touch. Along with the open-mouthed kisses being pressed into the base of his throat, it was altogether enough to make his knees tremble ever so slightly and he was fairly sure that he was already dangerously close to leaking pre-come all over Nathan’s fingers.

“Din… touch me too, please.”

He could only nod in response, more than willing to oblige now that he had been shaken loose from the haze of pleasure that left him doing little more than just holding onto the man in his arms. Words seemed stuck at the base of his throat, though, held down by his excitement and his nerves. Timidly, he reached into the waistband of Nathan’s stretchy slacks and one layer deeper into his underwear, wrapping unsure fingers around the hard and heavy cock inside. He realised, all too late, that he was still wearing his gloves.

“Fuck-- wait, wait. Take it off, I want to feel you.” Nathan all but gasped the words, before grabbing onto his vambrace and drawing his arm up to clumsily, literally blindly, pull at the offending garment. Din rushed to resume his touching as soon as the hand was free, muttering a quick apology for forgetting about the gloves. He was stunned by the feeling of the hard length against his bare fingers, slippery with pre-come and impressively stiff already. Without meaning to, he must have given some vocal indication of his appreciation, because Nathan huffed, amused, offering him words of encouragement in return.

Despite Din's eagerness though, it was a wonder he could actually muster enough coordination to move in any approximation of a stroke, not while Nathan’s own fingers were wrecking absolute havoc wrapped around him. In fact, Din ended up mostly forming a loose fist, while Nathan thrusted shallowly to get the friction he needed from the contact. It only made the whole situation even more of a turn-on for him.

Suddenly, with the arm that had been draped around his shoulder, the blond started flailing behind them, knocking over at least two items on the counter before Din reached out to stop him.

“What are you doing?”

“Lotion-- Where’s the lotion? Look and find it.”

He didn’t think much of the request at first, happily rummaging around in the cabinet where he’d seen the item in question. But when Nathan took that opportunity to move away from him and awkwardly push his slacks and underwear down until they pooled at his ankles, Din finally stopped to consider what the slick oil was actually for.

It’s not that he wasn’t ready, or that he hadn’t thought about sex. Because he had, since meeting Nathan. At length, in detail, with increasing interest. Particularly during the last three days of not being able to share much physical intimacy with each other at night.

It’s just that a small part of him figured that they would probably cross this line in a more significant, or even romantic, setting. Something less rushed, more meaningful, definitely more comfortable than this stainless steel counter. And they hadn't necessarily spoken about it. There were... _roles_. Which did Nathan expect him to fill? Which did _he_ , himself, want?

His hesitation must have been apparent. Maybe from the fact that he didn’t eagerly return his hands to Nathan’s body, or move to do anything with the lotion, going quiet and still instead. Shuffling a little closer, slowly, the blond tilted his head up to kiss him gently, both hands reaching up to frame his face.

“Are you frozen in place because you’re staring at my ass in the mirror, or did I spook you with the lotion?” Nathan's tone was sincere and Din received a few more quick, but genuinely comforting, kisses before he could respond.

“… What’s it for?” Honesty seemed like the best policy in a moment like this and even though Nathan's ass, _wow, yes_ , was very nice-- they both knew that wasn't the problem. For the first time he actually kind of wished that they could look at each other, speak plainly, while holding each other’s gaze. It was a pretty unexpected thing for Din to want, but he did undeniably crave it and this moment made that painfully obvious.

“Nothing like _that_. Let me show you-- just help me up.” The answer was vague, but it clearly confirmed that Nathan understood the reason behind his hesitation. _That_ reason. Hopefully he understood it enough to also realise that Din's reaction had nothing to do with him, or physical attraction, or even desire, and everything to do with timing.

At the very least, now Nathan knew that Din thought about sex, considered it. That it was something up for discussion. But obviously at a later date, at a later time. A time when they weren't both hard and desperate, rushing to get each other off in the refresher, like a couple of truant teenagers in the school locker room.

So as asked, Din put the vial down and lifted the blond onto the counter, watching in amusement while Nathan then struggled to blindly shake one of his legs free from the clothes stuck around his ankles.

It wasn’t so amusing, however, once Nathan spread his legs open and reached out, trying to pull him in to stand between them. Din had to respect the level of courage and trust that it must take to be naked and not only willingly giving up sight, but also exposing yourself in the most vulnerable of ways.

It was perhaps the single most erotic thing he’d ever seen and he had to take a moment to commit it to memory.

“So… _now_ are you frozen because you’re staring?” Nathan seemed confident on the surface, but couldn’t very well hide the blush spreading across his cheeks, or the slight tremble in the hands that were loosely wrapped around Din’s arms.

“Yes. Sorry.” He barely sounded like himself, obviously so affected by the sight in front of him. He realised that he was literally just standing there gawking, with his cock hanging out of the opening in his slacks and otherwise fully armoured, with the exception of his helmet.

In contrast, Nathan looked like a lithe and beguiling _nymph_. He still had his underwear hanging off one of his ankles, but he looked absolutely stunning. Just soft and inviting. The only thing that was out of place were his eyes, forced shut with obvious effort. It didn't crease his forehead with an unhappy frown by any means, but it also didn’t look natural.

“Why did you want me to keep the armour on if you can’t even see it?” He asked it before he even knew what he intended to do with the answer.

“It’s the thought that counts." The reply was accompanied by a somewhat impatient huff, as the blond kept trying to tug him nearer. “And I wanted to feel it as well.”

Once more, Din was pulled closer, but he stood his ground, keeping a distance between them. “I can put the helmet back on. Do you want that?”

As soon as the offer was spoken into the quiet room, Nathan simply seemed to blossom, excited and eager. He successfully pulled Din closer with a much more determined tug, dragged him into a messy kiss before replying with a breathless "yes".

It felt a little disappointing to hide himself away. For the second time in as many minutes, a part of him secretly longed for a time when he wouldn't have to.

Nevertheless, it was ultimately rewarding to slip the helmet back on too. Entirely worth it, even, once the blond hesitantly opened his eyes and smiled at him, so genuinely that Din almost forgot the insistent pressure of his arousal.

Almost but not quite, because that’s exactly where Nathan’s eyes travelled to next. “Fuck-- alright, come here, _please_ , you’re like a wet dream.”

He’d never been spoken to in that tone and never even been looked at this way. Nathan was eyeing him like a meal and it was surreal to think that _he_ was the ‘wet dream’ in this whole situation. Especially considering the blond was the one completely naked, with his legs open and drawing him even closer until their hips met.

It was a deliciously new experience, to feel each other’s lengths touch without any barrier between them. Din thrust forward in a stuttered rhythm, trying to seek out any kind of friction. Nathan stilled his motions, though, and then slapped away his hand when he went to touch him again. “Wait. And get rid of the other glove too.”

Momentarily frustrated but happy to do as he was told, Din nearly dropped the heavy item when he felt the drizzle of cold lotion drip over his cock. And when Nathan wrapped a hand around both of them, spreading the oil and coating their lengths with it, he did actually drop the glove. Suddenly unconcerned with the clatter as it hit the ground, choosing instead to brace himself on the counter and luxuriate in the feelings overtaking him.

He catalogued all of Nathan’s gasps, huffs and small whimpers of pleasure as they filtered through his helmet-- couldn't deny how he longed to feel them against his cheek, or down the column of his neck, hear them loud and clear right against his ear. But Nathan wouldn’t be comfortable if Din's face was uncovered. He'd be too concerned with keeping his eyes closed. Unable to do things like throw his head back to let out a particularly guttural groan, appraising Din with a lewd stare afterwards, uncannily accurate with where he was looking and actually meeting his eyes through the visor.

It was distracting enough for Din to push the thoughts of his helmet aside and focus on the pleasure that was steadily flourishing within him. It felt like he could come within seconds if he didn't try to hold back, even though it wasn’t the most elegant of handjobs. Sure, he didn’t have any experience to compare it to, but he was decently thick and heavy, and Nathan wasn’t much less of handful, so even with two hands the blond was struggling to find a good rhythm.

Slowly, just in case he was going to be slapped away again, he straightened out and tried to take over. “Let me tr--”

“Oh fuck _yes_ , please, I love your hands.”

It seemed like Nathan's frantic response all but burst from him, filled with relief and excitement, sincere. Emboldened and surprised by the fact that apparently Nathan had _strong_ opinions about his hands, Din wasted no time applying himself to the task. He felt timid but way too eager to let that stop him, and he wanted to notice and appreciate every minor detail along the way. Like the fact that Nathan’s cock felt like silk, for lack of a better word. And it was flushed a rosy pink, warm, slick with arousal. _He did that_. He made Nathan feel this way and he was never going to be able to forget it.

It's possible Din spent a few too many moments contemplating the contrast between them, and how his hand looked wrapped around someone else's length. Even more so when he finally took hold of his own cock to bring them together. His hands were larger than Nathan's and his fingers were longer, so it didn’t feel awkward to stroke them in tandem. And it also happened to feel absolutely fucking amazing. Nathan made sure to say as much, a few times even. Din couldn't agree more.

He was distantly aware that it was literally the middle of the day and they were locked in the refresher exchanging a moment that was downright filthy. From Nathan’s stuttered breathing and desperate gasps, to the slick noise of Din's strokes as he steadily tried to increase the pace. Enough time had passed that Cara was now just graciously choosing not to seek them out, definitely past wondering where they had disappeared to. Which was good, because he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. And he certainly wouldn't dream of stopping. Nothing mattered anymore, except for the rising tide of their orgasms.

When Nathan fell back onto the counter, he let his arms reach above his head, scrambling for non-existent purchase on the wall. The blond's legs spread even wider, thigh and abdominal muscles quivering, and he looked incredibly beautiful. He was obviously well past the point of desperate too, but he wouldn’t hold his eyes closed for long, always flitting his gaze back towards Din’s hands, then his chest armour, the helmet, the ceiling, and then back to his hands again. Like there wasn't a single moment or detail worth missing.

Honestly, if Din had thought the sight that had greeted him earlier was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, it was only because he hadn’t yet been privy to what was happening now. Having Nathan spread out on the counter for him like this, on the brink of climax from the touch of his hands alone… well, Din was set to have actual wet dreams about it, and if he wasn’t so intent on watching the blond fall apart, he could have easily and selfishly chased down his own orgasm by now.

“I-- Din. I'm gonna-- fuck, Din.”

Yeah, he was. Din might not have much experience, but it was obvious that Nathan was reaching his tipping point. No verbal warning necessary.

For one, Nathan could hardly control his trembling now (something that Din was actually completely fascinated by). For two, there was a flush travelling down from the base of his throat all the way to his abdomen. It was such a deep crimson red that in any other situation it might be concerning. His eyes were also finally screwed shut-- in ecstasy, not out of obligation. An important distinction.

Basically, it really wasn’t at all surprising when he did finally come, spilling all over himself. It was one of the most captivating sights that Din had ever witnessed. In fact, he didn’t think he was likely to see anything else that would bring him the kind of joy he was feeling then.

Din did, however, have to quickly wipe one of his hands and hold it up to Nathan’s mouth to muffle the obscene and far too loud moan that escaped him. It probably wasn’t the most polite thing to do, smothering your partner with an oil-slicked and come-smeared hand-- but if Nathan had any objections, he didn’t make them known. He seemed to enjoy it, actually, eventually poking out his tongue to lick at his palm.

That action nearly brought Din to his own climax, but not quite. He kept his hand there for a moment longer, using the other to shift the blond closer and slightly further off the edge of the counter. Then he started grinding their hips together, taking full advantage of the slippery wetness between them. He wanted to rub his still stiff cock against the blond’s softening one. Some instinctual urge that he couldn't even begin to explain. Nathan resorted to simply bracing himself against the wall. He was trying to offset the movement of Din’s hips so they wouldn’t start rocking against the wood panels (and pretty much advertise what was happening in the refresher to the rest of the house, just in case there was any doubt).

Din was far too delirious with pleasure to care about noise at that point. He could only focus on the cresting of his orgasm, both hands now simply holding the blond’s hips to keep him in place while he mindlessly sought out the friction he needed. But it wasn't long before Nathan reached the limit of his tolerance for further stimulation. The blond was shuddering from how sensitive he felt, and quivering hands tried push Din back just as his climax hit him. “Din-- let me.”

Thankfully he had just enough cognitive ability to heed the words and slow the roll of his hips, allowing Nathan to milk him through his orgasm with his hands instead. In the end, it felt even better and somehow achingly intimate. Not to mention, also ridiculously obscene to watch.

He was in a daze afterwards. Leaning so far forward that he was practically squishing the other man into the counter, but he didn't trust that his legs could hold him up on their own.

After a few long moments spent trying to catch his breath, Din finally pulled himself together and relented his hold on Nathan's hips, gently kneading the areas where he had undoubtedly applied too much pressure. The blond seemed to melt into the tender touch, content to remain still and pliant under his hands while being doted on, watching him with a dopey sort of smile. Cute, really. Happy.

Yet again, Din wished that he could gaze directly at him and share a kiss-- but it wouldn't even be fair to say that out loud.

Instead, he could clean Nathan up. That was probably the considerate thing to do after coming all over someone. So once he'd gathered enough wits to reach out and grab a towel, he soaked it in some lukewarm water and started wiping away the mess they’d made on the blond's stomach.

“I meant to ask-- do you want to go on a date?” It seemed like as good a time as any to pose the question... and he really had meant to bring it up earlier. Before getting completely side-tracked, of course. For obvious reasons.

“What-- Are you high?” It was amazing that Nathan was still naked but entirely unconcerned, just looking at him like he'd grown a third head.

His gaze was indulgent though, not judgemental, and it made Din's heart burst with affection. He circled his arms around the blond’s waist and gently lifted him up, drawing him in for a hug that was eagerly returned.

“I admit, I do need to work on my timing. But I’m sober and serious." He disentangled himself from their embrace and stepped back far enough to pick up the slacks and underwear on the ground, helpfully holding them in place so Nathan could slip his legs in. "Cara’s offered to babysit for a whole day and night.”

After a soft " _oh,_ I see", Nathan braced himself on Din's shoulders to lift his hips off the counter and finish dragging his pants on. The whole moment felt so intimate that it kind of unexpectedly overwhelmed him. Sure, they’d just traded mind-blowing orgasms (and he’d literally just wiped his come off Nathan's abdomen), but this... it just felt different. It felt significant to have a conversation while Nathan was getting dressed (well, half-dressed, still no shirt) and Din was tucking himself back into his own pants, casually doing up the zipper and fighting with his button until he got it to fit in place. It might only be a ‘small’ moment in time, mundane even, but somehow it felt really sentimental.

For some reason, he’d always had this idea that sex and things of that nature would be followed by a measure of shame, or awkwardness at the very least. When he hadn’t felt any after that night a few days ago, he chalked it down to the darkness in the room having somehow provided a shield against these emotions. But now? There was no darkness and Din had never felt more comfortable. He was hopelessly in love with Nathan, and his dopey, post-orgasm smile, and he kind of never wanted to fool around in the dark again.

“So, okay-- what kind of date?" The question finally snapped him out of his sappy reverie. "Typically people get a drink or have a meal together, you know.”

 _I can’t do that with you._ It wasn’t said but understood all the same. “Yeah, I know, sorry. I haven’t come up with something yet."

“No-- Din. Don’t apologise. You misunderstood me." He was drawn in to stand between Nathan’s legs again, enveloped in another hug. “I just meant to insinuate that we're kind of removed from civilization. Typical dates aren't necessarily available to us here, in case you haven't noticed. But-- I do have an idea? You could teach me how to shoot? We could make a day of it? Hiking, a picnic. Very sappy and outdoorsy. Hopefully not life threatening.”

“You’d like that?”

He felt fingers slip under his helmet to comfortingly caress the back of his neck. “Yes. You?”

 _Absolutely_. But first, instead of replying, Din honestly just wanted to kiss again. He put a hand over Nathan’s eyes, wordlessly instructing him to close them. Once the helmet was gone, Nathan was quick to kiss him, reaching up to brush his hair off his forehead too and covering every inch of his face in smooches (something he'd gotten really good at doing without being able to see).

“You’re all _sweaty_ under this helmet, sir. Care to explain? What, pray tell, got you so hot and bothered?”

Laughter burst from him without any pretence, even though he actually felt uncomfortably ready for a shower. He was indeed awfully sweaty. In fact, the whole of him felt stuffy and sticky beneath the armour. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except Nathan, and _them_. At least for a few minutes longer, there wasn’t any room in his mind for anything else. Certainly not the undercurrent of anxiety that had accompanied him for days.

In that moment, the refresher was a timeless shelter for them. He would have kept holding and kissing Nathan for hours on end if the door didn’t creak open slowly, telepathically unlocked and pushed aside by the child as he cooed happily and innocently up at them.

Not the best of timings but-- well, it seemed that being inconveniently and innocently interrupted was a hallmark of fatherhood... and at least they were both decent by then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nov 2020 update:   
> there's no easy way to say to this, so to put it simply: I was diagnosed with cancer, not long after my last author's update. I'm on the tail end of the battle. my last chemotherapy dose was two weeks ago, actually. my prognosis is good. I'm going to be okay. that's all the detail I'll go into about that.
> 
> so... now I am going to re-watch the first season, and catch up on the second season, and continue writing this story. I need this universe and these characters and this escape from reality more than ever. I just haven't had the strength to focus on it. thank you for being patient with me, if you're still here and reading this. I'm sorry I disappeared but, as I've promised all along, there is no way I'm not finishing this story. I'm getting there.


End file.
